The Dark Parts of the Light
by eedwrites
Summary: Scorpius tries to outrun centuries of his family's past. Albus feels like he's letting everyone down. Rose is a serial perfectionist. James fights inner demons. Old prejudices simmer deep in the dungeons of Hogwarts, while the shadow of a previous generation of heroes and villians looms high overhead. All this generation wants is to not be compared to the last one.
1. Prologue

_2017_

Pride is really a very silly thing. More often than not, all pride accomplishes is making a man look the fool he so desperately used it to avoid.

The old families were nothing without their pride.

Or the mistakes that seemed to plague them because of it.

Draco ran a hand through his thinning blond hair as he read the letter that had just come from his young son, a frown etched into his thin face.

A Gryffindor. His father was going to go spare.

Astoria was perhaps not thrilled, but not unhappy about Scorpius' placement. Draco was trying his best to be wholly apathetic about the whole thing. Nevertheless, he was worried.

Sirius Black had been disowned for being a Gryffindor. Technically, Lucius did not have the authority to disown his grandson, but that certainly didn't mean he couldn't make life exceedingly difficult for the young Malfoy, if he so chose. _Slytherin Pride._ On Draco's own first day of Hogwarts, his father had made it clear that on no uncertain terms he was to be a Slytherin. Draco distinctly remembered scoffing, as if there couldn't even have been another option. He had made his father proud, that day. His father's pride had caused him more harm than good in his life.

Sirius Black had been disowned for being a Gryffindor. And now he was heralded as a war hero. Lucius Malfoy was anything but a war hero. Weasleys and Potters and Longbottoms were Gryffindors. They now ruled the country. The Malfoys lived largely off of old money, and Draco's own ministry job. Below Hermione Weasley.

Draco sighed, and picked up his quill, mulling over the words he wrote carefully. At last, he had penned a letter to his mother, figuring hearing it from her was perhaps least likely to give his father a heart attack.

A Malfoy in Gryffindor. Should be interesting.

Draco watched the owl until it disappeared from the horizon line.

Very interesting, indeed.

XXX

 **A/n:** Kind of AU in that Scorpius and Albus are in Gryffindor with Rose. Reviews!


	2. In Principio

_September 2, 2022_

 _5 years Later_

Scorpius tore around a corner, footsteps falling heavily on the old stone floors of Hogwarts. The young Malfoy angrily hitched his broom further up his shoulder, doubling his already quick pace up to the seventh floor and into the Gryffindor common room. He stopped just inside the empty room, took a quick glance around, then threw the old Nimbus onto the thick rug with a satisfying muffled thump. He relit the fire with perhaps more gusto than necessary, causing it to flare dramatically. He stared into the fireplace expressionlessly for a moment, before throwing himself into an armchair.

 _25 minutes earlier_

A bolt of grey shot across the dark grounds of Hogwarts, coming in a full loop of the Quidditch pitch and then hovering about twenty feet above the ground at a standstill, before shooting off again. Finally, coming to a soft landing, Scorpius wiped the sweat off his brow and slung the broom over his shoulder, heading inside. He was scarcely in the entrance hall before he was confronted.

"Look who it is," a soft voice murmured.

Scorpius stiffened. "Carina," he addressed, voice belaying no hint of the discomfort he felt. Carina Zabini stepped into a beam of moonlight coming from one of the windows. The silvery light cast a strange glow onto her chiseled features, making her caramel-colored skin and glossy dark brown hair shine. The green and silver prefect's badge on her lapel glinted at him.

"It's been a while, cousin." Her soft voice had taken on the slightest bit of mockery at that statement, true though it was. She took a step closer, dropping her voice into a whisper. "What brings you out of your precious tower past curfew? Your mother would have been so disappointed in you."

Ah, that old blow. He'd known it was coming, too. It didn't stop his hands from closing into fists at his sides, or his jaw from tensing. Carina noted all of this with no small amount of cruel amusement. "Touched a wound, Scorpius?" she breathed with a mean smile.

"My mother's death?" he answered, voice slightly shaking with anger. "Shockingly, yes. I'll be on my way now." He hastened away from her, but not before she could call after him, taking ten points from Gryffindor and giving him a detention. Frankly, he did not care. He silently applauded himself as he stomped up the stairs for not hexing the bitch. Carina, the daughter of his mother's sister Daphne and his father's old school friend Blaise, was a year older than him and perhaps his least favorite person in Hogwarts. She took immense pleasure in the fact the Scorpius had been sorted into Gryffindor, and was therefore a "disgrace" to the family. Again, he did not particularly care. Until she brought up his mother, which she always inevitably did.

So, he did what Scorpius Malfoy does when he's upset. He worked himself into a temper. Scorpius stomped up seven floors, slammed the portrait hole, and threw his broom down on the floor. He lit something on fire. He did all of the things he usually did after an encounter with his dear cousin.

That was why he sat, slumped in one of the overstuffed armchairs in the Gryffindor common room, glaring at the fire as if it was the cause for all of his problems, at one in the morning on the first day of classes in his fifth year. Scorpius supposed, after about an hour of quietly fuming, that he should probably sleep, seeing as he had class in just a few short hours. He heaved himself out of his chair, doused the fire, grabbed his broom and headed for the fifth year dormitory.

Making the water as hot as he could, Scorpius jumped in the shower and stayed there until his pale skin was a reddish-pink. He threw on a pair of boxers and collapsed onto his bed, asleep within the minute.

 _September 3_ _rd_

"Up!" a voice broke through Scorpius' sleeping brain.

He groaned and rolled over. The person began to shake his shoulder.

"Get up, Malfoy! Rose will castrate me if we're late on the first day." Scorpius made a rather rude gesture behind his back at his unwelcome alarm clock.

"Fuck off, Potter," he mumbled into his pillow.

Albus sighed dramatically behind him. "How I've missed your sunny disposition in the morning." Alex Jordan snickered from somewhere within the dorm. Scorpius rolled over and opened one eye to look at his best mate, who was now busy with something in his trunk. Al pulled out a white uniform shirt, then swore loud enough to finally get Scorpius to sit up.

"What?" he asked while stretching.

Al pulled on a white t-shirt then held up the uniform shirt. "That's James's." Scorpius shook his head.

"I don't get it, you and James are practically the same size. Why do you care who's got whose shirt?" Al shot a long-suffering look at Scorpius, but put on the shirt anyway.

"It's times like these that show that you're an only child, Scorp." Scorpius scowled at the use of the nickname, but said nothing. He had given up talking Al out of that one ages ago. He stretched and headed over to his own trunk, then put on his own uniform. Albus stood ready for him when he finished dressing, fussing with his shining gold prefect's badge. Rose had been ecstatic when Albus had been made her prefect counterpart, but Albus was convinced it must have been a mistake. Scorpius had wisely pointed out when he had gotten the news that Alex Jordan, Jonathan Watters, and Simon Corner had caused nearly enough trouble to out rule themselves for the job, and Scorpius himself was in detention at least once a month, not to mention didn't want the job. That left Al, who was, comparatively, mild mannered.

"Let's go. We don't want Rose to castrate you," Scorpius said. Al nodded.

The trip down to the Great Hall was relatively unmemorable. Al waved to and greeted various acquaintances while Scorpius stayed quiet, as they had discovered at some point in third year that people who did not know Scorpius well tended to find the things that came out of his mouth offensive. Albus was the nice one, anyway. As they reached the Entrance Hall, a loud shout cut over the crowd.

"Al!" Said person buried his face in his hand and groaned, before looking up sharply at the face of his grinning brother.

"What!"

"That's my shirt!" James accused. Scorpius had no idea how James could possibly tell.

"That's my shirt!" Albus retorted. Ah, that explained it. Scorpius watched, amused, as the Potter brothers interacted. At some point over the summer Al (who was eighteen months James's junior) had shot up a few inches. Now the two, who had always looked similar, were very nearly identical. The only two major differences were that where James had warm brown eyes hidden behind glasses, Albus had sharp green ones that gave a hint of the dry wit that Al possessed but rarely used to a great extent. He also wore these muggle things called contacts because he "refused to look more like his father, thank you very much." On James, a QC badge was pinned to his lapel, while Al had the aforementioned prefect's badge.

Lost in speculation, Scorpius almost didn't notice as the stocky form of Fred Weasley approached the slightly taller, gangly Potters. He slung an arm around James's shoulders and started to "referee" the debate, before Albus huffed and grabbed Scorpius by the bicep and dragged him off to breakfast.

"Bloody berk wanted me to give him the sodding shirt right there," Albus complained as they made their way to the table. "Git," he muttered under his breath. Scorpius tried and failed to hide his amusement.

They found Rose sitting at the end of the table. Albus slid in next to her while Scorpius sat across. Her auburn curls were bent over some muggle book that she briefly glanced away from before muttering a quick "you're late" at them.

"We are not!" Scorpius said indignantly. "Anyway, Al was being harassed."

Interest piqued, Rose set down her book, which Scorpius now saw was called _The Picture of Dorian Gray._ She arched one eyebrow at Al. "Harassed?" she asked.

Albus rolled his eyes. "James wanted his shirt back. I'm wearing that shirt."

Rose nodded understandingly. "Ah," she said. "You were still late."

"If we're late, it's because Scorp wouldn't _get up_!" Albus accused, pointing a finger at Scorpius, who narrowed his grey eyes at Al. Rose rounded on him.

"Why?"

"I missed my bed, Rose. We were getting reacquainted."

"He was out until like two last night," Al told her, the snitch.

"You were supposed to be asleep!"

"You were slamming doors. You're lucky that I'm the only one who woke up."

Scorpius winced. "I was in a mood."

Rose scoffed. "When are you not in a mood?" she asked, perhaps accurately. "I won't even ask where you were," she added.

He scowled at her. "I had a run in with Carina."

Rose and Albus simultaneously winced. Meanwhile, James and Fred were sitting down next to them, and caught the end of their conversation. James, who usually was usually no more or less friendly with Scorpius than he was with most people (which, granted, was very), patted Scorpius awkwardly on the shoulder. Given the fact that he was already well focused on the food, Scorpius was not entirely sure James realized that Scorpius was not his brother. He shot a confused look at Al, who shrugged as if to say he had no idea what his brother was doing either.

"I bloody hate that girl," Fred commented. "No offense, Malfoy. She's your cousin, right?" Scorpius snorted.

"Sadly. You aren't going to get an argument from me though, mate."

"She tried to snog me last year," James commented absently, stirring his tea. Al choked on his pumpkin juice.

" _Carina Zabini?_ " he coughed out incredulously, while Rose smacked him on the back. "James, please tell me – "

James looked up from his breakfast, affronted. "I didn't do it. I have standards, you know." Fred muttered something under his breath that sounded like "hardly", and was rewarded with a kick under the table from James.

Rose rolled her eyes. "What did she do?"

Scorpius stayed focused on his plate. "Just gave me a detention. Nothing worse than usual," he said. Rose shot him a knowing, sympathetic look that he hated, but mercifully let the subject drop.

James, who had been arguing with Fred over his supposed "standards," now turned to Albus and Scorpius. "I'm scheduling tryouts Friday, Al, Scorpius." Scorpius made a noise of acknowledgement and Albus shook his head.

"I'm not trying out, James," he said pointedly. Scorpius got the idea they had had this conversation before.

"But Callaway graduated last year and I need a seeker," James whined.

"I'm not good enough," Albus replied. Fred laughed out loud.

"That might be the biggest lie you've ever told, Al," he chided. James nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah, what he said. _Please_ Al," James said forcefully. "Plus," he added blithely. "half the female population of Hogwarts would be swooning in their seats if you so much as put on the uniform. Trust me, I know." Albus scowled at the remark.

"It can't hurt to try out Al," Scorpius added in what he hoped was a casual tone. In reality, he desperately wanted his best mate to try out, if only because Albus was one of the only people who could keep James Potter somewhat in control. Only their sister, the third year Lily, and their mother were any better. Scorpius, as one of James's fellow chasers, had given up trying to reel in the Quidditch obsessed sixth year.

"Not you too!" Al said to Scorpius. Scorpius shrugged.

"It would be nice for you to be there," he said. Albus shot a slightly bewildered look at Rose, who was clearly paying no attention to the discussion of Quidditch, but met his eye with a raised eyebrow. A statement like that from Scorpius was about as affectionate as he got. Al sighed.

"I'll think about it," he relented. James fist pumped. Longbottom then came around to hand out their schedules, which Rose took eagerly. She quickly scanned the schedule, then got up.

"We have Charms first," she announced. She grabbed Albus by the collar and hauled him to his feet. He smacked her hand away and glared at her, rubbing his neck. James laughed.

"Don't ruin my shirt, Rosie," he guffawed. She scowled at him.

"Don't call me that," she snapped. James just grinned at her. "Come on, Scorp."

"Don't call me that," he mocked good naturedly as he got to his feet. Rose was equally as impossible to convince to call him otherwise as Al. Nevertheless, she scowled at him too. The three said goodbye to James and Fred, who had a free, and began the walk to Charms.

"What's with you today?" Al said to Rose.

She sighed exasperatedly. "It's our O.W.L. year! It's all very stressful."

Scorpius shook his head incredulously at her. "Merlin, woman! It's the first day!"

"Yes, but we need to prepare! It's only ten months until the tests, you know."

"Rose, you've been preparing for O.W.L.s since third year. You could take them now and do better than almost everyone will in June," Albus said consolingly. She huffed.

"They're very important, you know!" Rose pressed on. "I can't just not study and get straight O's, like some people." She glared at Scorpius.

"I got an E in Transfiguration last year! My teacup still had a tail!" he said indignantly.

"Yes, yes, you're brilliant, Scorp," Al said dismissively. Scorpius glared at him. They had entered the classroom and took their usual seats in the middle of the class. "Rose, you'll be fine," he added as Flitwick entered the already full classroom and called for quiet. The lecture about the importance of O.W.L.s was horribly boring to Scorpius, and he and Al played hangman on a scrap of parchment in the desk behind Rose and her desk mate, the twin of Scorpius's roommate Simon named Lina in Ravenclaw.

After Charms, Scorpius and Albus were to head outside to Care of Magical Creatures while Rose went to Arithmancy. This class had been Albus's favorite since third year, and was even more so now. Old Hagrid, while "a dear family friend" to the Potters and Weasleys, had decided that he was getting too old for teaching and retired to simply be the game keeper once again after their third year. Albus, who visited Hagrid several times a month, had been distraught. That was until, on the first class of fourth year, Al and Scorpius had been greeted by one Charlie Weasley, who had neglected to inform any of his family that he had quit his job in Romania to come to teach. Albus had stood slack jawed at the sight of his uncle for a solid minute while Scorpius laughed. Rose told him that Charlie had gotten a howler from his mother chastising him for not telling her he was moving back to the UK. Many of the students hadn't even known that there _was_ a Charlie Weasley before his time as a teacher, given his propensity for keeping himself away from the spotlight the rest of the famous family lived in.

Today they were greeted much as they were that first day, to the sight of the stocky man with the shoulder length red hair that was streaked with grey. Today his hair was pulled into a knot at the nape of his neck, revealing a black tattoo (Al said it was a dragon) crawling up his neck. If one looked close enough, you could see the tail flicker every once in a while. He was as tall as Rose's father, but far broader, making him by far the largest of Al's and Rose's uncles. As he had been that day, he was wearing a t-shirt, dragon hide coat, and muggle jeans while standing next to a cage with a canvas over the top. Scorpius, along with most of the population of Hogwarts, thought he was a total badass. The class of fifth years gathered around Professor Weasley and his cage were, as usual, either watching the cage or the man with small amounts of trepidation. In fact, the only people who appeared completely calm were Albus and Scorpius. Albus because he knew that the professor's actual personality rarely matched his outward appearance, and Scorpius because casual indifference was how he usually appeared.

"Hello class. Nice to see you," Weasley said with a small smile. His light West Country accent, somehow untouched even after more than twenty-five years in Romania, was very similar to the way most of the Weasleys Scorpius knew spoke. It was kind of comforting. "Today, we are just going to get straight into the curriculum. I figure you will hear the O.W.L. lecture stuff enough times this week." He turned to the cage and opened it. He pulled out a large, orange ball of fluff. "This is my good friend Rolf's kneazle Hoppy II. Kneazles are related to cats, and often interbreed with them. They are extremely intelligent creatures, who are very loyal to their owners. They are classified a XXX by the ministry. You have to have a license to own one Does anyone know why?" Albus's had shot into the air in a very Rose-like fashion. Charlie gave a bemused smile. "Albus?"

"They can get very aggressive towards people they don't like or perceive as suspicious," he answered quickly. Scorpius looked at the large animal now dozing in the professor's arms and thought it was hard to imagine the thing being aggressive at all. As if it sensed his gaze (it probably did), the kneazle opened it large amber eyes and looked at Scorpius quizzically. Charlie nodded his approval of Albus's answer.

"Alright, most likely, Hoppy will just act like a normal cat when I set him down, but just in case, make sure you call if he tries something on you. For now, don't try to pet him. Okay?" the professor announced as he put the cat down. As predicted the kneazle simply made his way around the students before settling himself on Al's feet.

"We've met before," Albus said simply to the class's curious glances at him. Scorpius was long used to the fact that Albus and Rose were part of the most well connected family in wizarding England, so the fact that Al was acquainted with this particular kneazle was not as surprising to him as it probably was to the rest of the bewildered class. Hoppy blinked up at Albus, then returned to the professor's side. The rest of the class was spent talking about the various properties of kneazles and then taking turns petting the animal. At the end of the period, Hoppy went back into his crate and they were dismissed to lunch. Albus stayed late to talk to his uncle, so Scorpius moved into the castle alone to meet Rose. He found her sitting with her roommate, Carla Uberi. Carla had long, dark brown hair that hung in loose waves and olive skin. Scorpius had always found her boisterous manner slightly amusing, even more so when you considered she was the other half of Fred Weasley's beater pair. Scorpius settled into a seat across from Rose and found that she was uncharacteristically giggling with the other girl.

"What's funny?" he asked. Carla laughed.

"Adam Goldstein asked her out on our way here," she said in her mild Italian lilt. Rose flushed red.

Scorpius raised a blond eyebrow. "I assume you said yes?" he said to Rose. She nodded as Albus approached the table.

"Why does Rose look like a tomato?" he asked Scorpius.

"She's got herself a boyfriend," Scorpius replied. Albus scowled. Rose kicked him under the table.

"Scorpius, he is not my boyfriend! It's just a date in Hogsmeade," she explained.

"Who?" Albus asked harshly.

"Adam Goldstein," Carla cut in.

"Git," Al muttered under his breath. Scorpius had always found it funny that Albus was more protective of Rose than her own brother. Not that the idea of Rose dating was incredibly thrilling to him.

"You've hardly talked to him Al," Scorpius pointed out.

"He's a rubbish keeper," Al replied.

"You brat!" Rose said incredulously. "That's your reasoning?"

"Why's Al a brat?" a new voice asked. Scorpius looked up to find Lily Potter and Hugo Weasley sitting down next to the group of fifth years.

"Rose got a date with Adam Goldstein," Carla answered cheerfully. She seemed to find the conversation amusing. Lily nodded with a sympathetic pat on Rose's shoulder.

"He's cute, Rosie," she said. "He has that tall blond thing going for him."

"Lily!" came Al's indignant exclamation. "You're too young to think people are cute! Scorpius is tall and blond, do you think he's cute too?" Lily looked Scorpius up and down. She shrugged.

"You're alright," she proclaimed. Scorpius, Carla, and Hugo all laughed while Al spluttered.

"Good for you, Rose," Hugo said after the laughter died down. "Dad will be so pleased.

"See! He's her brother and he can be cool with it!" Lily said to her brother. Al kept the scowl on his face but stayed quiet as he ate. Rose shook her head and changed the subject.

"We have defense next with Slytherin," she commented. Scorpius grunted his acknowledgement. The rest of lunch was spent listening to the girls chat and Hugo try to convince Albus to try out for Quidditch. Scorpius, who always dreaded lessons with the Slytherins, mostly stayed quiet save for the occasional agreement with Hugo. It wasn't exactly that he disliked Slytherins. His parents had both been Slytherins, and he certainly didn't dislike them. He had loved his mother dearly, and his father had been surprisingly supportive of his deviance from the family norm. No, the problem was that Slytherins hated him. He was numb to the taunting now; one can only be called a "blood traitor" so many times before it stops meaning anything, but he still did not appreciate the sentiment.

Rose wanted to get to class early, so she, Albus, and Scorpius left the Great Hall and began the trek the DADA classroom. As was their custom in classes with Slytherins, Al and Scorpius left Rose to the front row (she refused to sit anywhere else) and sat in the back corner (so did they). Where they sat in class was an old argument amongst the trio, with Rose always wanting to sit as close to the front as possible. Usually, they compromised and sat in the middle, but in Slytherin-paired classes, Scorpius absolutely refused to sit anywhere but the back and Rose took the opportunity to sit where she pleased. Albus went with Scorpius for moral support.

The classroom was soon full. As planned, Al and Scorpius's seating placed them as far away from the worst of the Slytherins as possible. Scorpius only still spoke with David Pucey, the mild-mannered son of a man his father played Quidditch with. All of the rest were at best mildly abrasive, at worst downright hostile toward him. The class quietly talked until the professor entered the classroom. Professor Creevey was about forty and another one of the people who were on first name terms with the Weasleys and Potters. The man was small and extremely thin with a crop of dull brown hair, and overall not extremely intimidating. That was, at least, until you got a good look at his face. The pale skin was marred by hundreds of small scars, which he had called "souvenirs" when someone asked him in first year. Creevey was a retired auror who had worked closely with Albus's father, retired by an explosion that cost him his leg. After leaving the force, he had come to teach, but still carried himself like an auror.

"Good afternoon, class," he said pleasantly. Creevey had a very strange accent, which seemed like Welsh that had been diluted over years of not living in Wales. His quiet voice carried with unmistakable authority over all of the chatter. It silenced immediately. The man was much more intimidating once he opened his mouth. Creevey turned to pace the front of the class, his false leg causing a slight limp but no noise. "This year, as I'm sure you've heard, you will take your O.W.L. tests," he continued, gazing over the class. His sharp blue-grey eyes seemed to cut into everyone they landed on. "Should you already know what you want to do with yourselves, these tests will be most important to achieving your goal." He paused, as if daring someone to contradict him. "If you do not know, the tests are equally important in keeping your options open. For the first half of the year, we will be going learning basic offensive magic, such as stunning spells, reductor curses, and the like. This year, as something new, once a month you will have a practical lesson in which you can try out some of the more destructive spells we learn in a secure location. The first of these will be in two weeks. Second half of the year is dangerous creatures, as well as revision for O.W.L.s. Clear?" The class nodded. "Lovely. Now, as I'm sure you've noticed, this is a Gryffindor/Slytherin class. Seeing as we have fought a war based largely on that particular rivalry, I would like to hope that you all have learned civil. However, that is often not the case, I have noticed." Those blue-grey eyes landed briefly on Scorpius, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. "You will not take your petty hostilities into this class, especially as it is one that often allows for the use of magic on one another. I am not asking for you to be friendly to each other, or even partner together. In fact, I would rather you didn't partner together, for safety's sake. You will be simply act civilly, or face the consequences. Understood?" Creevey had managed to get a guilty look out of even the crassest of the bunch. His tone had not raised above its normal quiet volume, but the words had taken on an edge that made them a command more so than a request. "I will take your silence as a yes. For the rest of the period, you are to read chapter one of your text and answer the questions at the end. Due at the beginning of your next lesson. That is all," he finished and sat at his desk. Scorpius, as he often had been in the last five years, was left slightly shaken for no particular reason by the way the professor spoke. It was part of the reason the man was his favorite professor. He turned the page and started on his assignment.

That night, Scorpius, Rose, and Albus sat around a fireplace in the Gryffindor common room with the rest of the Weasley bunch. Rose was filling out an Arithmancy chart while Scorpius (who had just gotten a notice scheduling his detention from Carina with Professor Creevey for Wednesday night), stretched out on a sofa, watched Al be beaten fantastically by Hugo in chess. He turned his attention to James, who was lounging, mirroring Scorpius, on the opposite couch with his head in Lily's lap. He appeared to have dozed off. His glasses were off and his sister was braiding little pieces of his shaggy hair and laughing with Fred, who was perched on the arm of the sofa, about it as he slept. It was strange to see the eldest Potter child so still, as James rarely was seen not moving. Albus came over after Hugo went to bed, picked up Scorpius's feet and sat down. He looked quizzically at his brother, apparently as confused as Scorpius at the sight.

"What's with him, Lil?" he asked, pointing at the sleeping teen. Lily shrugged. It was Fred who answered.

"He hasn't been sleeping, I don't think."

Rose shot a concerned glance at James. "It's only the third day back at school. Maybe it's just a recent thing." She looked to Fred for confirmation.

He shook his head. "Nah, I practically live at his house or he lives at mine in the summers. It's been a while, I think, but I wouldn't know why that is."

Scorpius tilted his head in contemplation at James. From closer up, there were faint dark circles visible under his eyes. "He doesn't seem tired during the day," he commented.

Albus chuckled. "'Course he wouldn't. He drinks like three cups of coffee every morning," he said. Lily nodded. "He has since he knew what the stuff was." He frowned at Fred. "Why didn't you mention it?" Al asked sharply.

"No one asked," he replied simply. Lily rolled her eyes.

"That was a very Uncle George answer."

"He is my dad, Lil," Fred shot back. Scorpius smiled and laid back further onto the couch.

"Should we wake him up?" Rose questioned worriedly. Her homework had been abandoned by her bag. "It's getting late." Fred seemed to contemplate the matter.

"I suppose we can't leave him out here," he finally ruled.

"Brilliant," Al said. He pulled the pillow from behind Scorpius's head, ignoring his indignant grunt, then threw it directly at his sibling's head. James snapped awake, swore, then fumbled for his glasses. He sat up, put them on, glanced around and then his glare settled on Al's perfectly innocent expression. James threw the pillow with what seemed like every ounce of Quidditch strength back he possessed at Al, who wisely ducked. "Good morning sunshine," Al cheerfully greeted. James scowled and settled back on Lily's lap. She laughed at him and went back to braiding his hair.

"What do you want?" he snapped, voice scratchy. He had his eyes shut again and either didn't notice or didn't care about Lily's hairstyle.

"You to get up."

"I don't want to get up. You get up," James mumbled.

"That's your comeback. Really?" Al asked incredulously.

"I'm sleeping." True to his words, which were slurring together, James seemed mostly asleep again. Scorpius doubted he would remember much about this short conversation.

"Sleep in your bed then," Al countered to himself, as James didn't reply. Fred rolled his eyes and bent over.

"Al agreed to try out!" he shouted directly in James's ear over Al's own protesting exclamation. James started slightly, but seemed to have heard the message, as he cracked open eye and glanced at his younger brother, then sat up and stretched. Scorpius watched his calculating stare interestedly. The brown eyes had gained the same sharpness that Albus's usually contained. It was wholly impressive, considering James was no doubt still half asleep. The older brother stood.

"Four o'clock Friday," he said simply before leaving for his dorm. Al glared at Fred, who smiled benignly.

"You wanted him alert, and nothing does that for James like Quidditch," Fred explained. "You were going to agree anyway."

"How d'you know I would have?" Al argued, but did not dispute the point.

"Malfoy asked you to," Fred replied as if it were obvious. He cocked his head. "I get the idea he doesn't ask for much from you and Rose." At that, Fred got up and followed James to their dormitory. Scorpius shook his head in awe.

"I think I was just psychoanalyzed by Fred Weasley," he said to no one in particular. Rose laughed.

"On that note, I'm turning in," she said, then paused. "It's not like he was wrong, you know."

XXX

 **A/n:** Alright so here's the deal. This story starts fifth year, and it will go as long as it will. I know you were promised scorose, and we will get there eventually, but for now I feel like Scorpius is just way too caught up in himself to do any serious-soulmate-crushing stuff right now. So we will just focus on the friendship development aspect for now. So now that that is understood, I feel like I should explain some things.

1\. Of course Charlie Weasley is the Care of Magical Creatures teacher after Hagrid retires. Of course he has a dragon tatoo. Of course he is friends with Rolf Scamander (let's say that Rolf's Charlie's age and met Luna through a Weasley family gathering). Of course he showed up without telling anyone. Of course he's a badass. He worked with dragons. This all makes perfect sense to me. Thoughts?

2\. I like the idea of little Dennis Creevey turning into a total Moody-esque auror/DADA teacher. He is a damaged individual from the war/death of his brother, and I see him as a kind of a quiet force to be reckoned with. Also, just fyi, for the purpose of this story he was Harry's partner after Ron quit to be a dad/work with George. I honestly don't know, but I am really feeling this character. I feel like Scorpius has something of a connection with him.

3\. Scorpius is a moody son of a bitch. I think it's interesting and what got him into Gryffindor instead of Slytherin, how he goes from calm indifference to destructive anger in 0.006 seconds.

4\. James Sirius Potter is turning out to be an extremely interesting character. Bit of a cocky bastard, but a lovable one. Think James Potter I but like toned down twenty notches. He is really friendly and cheerful during the day, and has most of the population of the school wrapped around his finger. I think that the fact that he suffers from some form of anxiety and keeps it super well hidden is representative of a lot of people. I feel kind of bad for using the Quidditch trope for James, but it's whatever, I'm just going to go with it. Also, I hate that in next gen fics James and Albus are often super at odds with each other, so none of that.

5\. Albus has an awful inferiority complex. We're talking Ron in sixth year bad. He's honestly brilliant, and a great person, but looking exactly like your famous father can do that to a guy. I feel like Albus has like Arthur Weasley's kindness with Harry's sarcasm and Ginny's wit laced on top. And of course he's a great Quidditch player, what with Harry and Ginny's genes. Come on.

6\. In Cursed Child, Astoria Malfoy dies in their third year. Obviously I am not following the Cursed Child canon (can you even call it that?), but I'm still using it as a plot point. I think Scorpius was very close with his mother and likes his father, but I honestly can't see Draco being anything other than a distant father.

Chapter two is shaping up to be a bit of a clusterfuck. Apologies in advance, this first chapter is still sort of an introduction. Next chapter focuses almost exclusively on James, his relationship with Fred and his with his brother and sister. Lots of new characters introduced.

Reviews!


	3. Sixteen Hours

_September 4_ _th_

* * *

 _Criminally Early in the Morning_

 _Otherwise known as 2:29 am_

 _James_

Something was buzzing under his pillow.

James, without opening his eyes, reached behind his head and pulled out his wand, then silently canceled the spell and cast another one equally as quietly. He had done it so many times, it had gotten to the point where he had begun to do it wordlessly without even really intending to. He cracked open one eye and read the floating numbers above his head.

Perfect.

He silently canceled that spell and waited one minute before he got out of bed. Casting a _muffliato_ , he opened his trunk and rifled through the clothing, pulling out a sweatshirt, a pair of running shorts, and an extremely old piece of parchment. He put the clothes and his glasses on, and left the dorm with the parchment in hand and his wand in his pocket. Activating the parchment, he noted the path to his destination was clear. Leaving a disgruntled fat lady behind, he left Gryffindor Tower and turned further down the seventh floor corridor. Stopping in front of a hideous old tapestry, he checked the parchment once more then closed his eyes as if in prayer and began to pace. Once, twice, three times he passed the tapestry then opened his eyes. The wall now bore an old wooden door. James folded the parchment and put it in his pocket and opened it.

His eyes adjusted quickly from the near darkness of the hallway to the early morning light above him. The door had led out onto a near-perfect replica of the yard of the Burrow, just without the actual house. James barely noticed. He put the wand and parchment on the ground and took off in a hard jog. He ran until he couldn't think of anything except the pounding of his feet on the grass, the burning in his lungs, the ache in his muscles. After that, he quickened his pace and ran some more. He ran until the last of the ever-present nagging feeling in his head was drowned out by the rushing blood.

Finally, a good time later, he collapsed, panting, onto the grass. Right on cue, a much simpler door appeared next to the entrance. James blinked at it, as he always did, then grabbed his wand and heaved himself up and through the door as if in a daze. A simple washroom was behind it, and James stripped off his clothes and the shower turned on. Here, the water automatically was the temperature he wanted it, which was about twice as hot as anything the normal system could provide. He took off his glasses and got in. The water burned, and James kept his eyes shut as he scrubbed his skin raw. When the last of the sweat and grime had left him, the water shut off with only a thought and he stepped out. A white towel was already on the hook when he sought it. Once he was dry enough, he put on his glasses and studied himself in the mirror. As was intended, he felt detached from himself as he waved his wand over the dark purple circles under his eyes, making them dissapear. The glamour would fade gradually over the next twenty-four hours. Satisfied, James cast a quick cleaning charm on his sweaty clothes and put them back on. He left the washroom and picked up the parchment, idly noting that he had never cleared it, checked the corridor outside, waited for Filch, the ancient caretaker, to turn the corner, then left the room.

James made the trek back up to Gryffindor tower almost silently, with his eyes on the paper. Once in the sanctuary of the dorm, he changed back into his pajamas and fell back onto his bed. All at once, as if an animal waiting for a chance to escape, thouts and images resurfaced from his self-induced fog. James squeezed his eyes shut and blew out a breath.

He really hadn't meant to fall asleep last night. Honestly, all he had done was shut his eyes, because Lily had been braiding his hair and he hadn't the will to stop her and for some reason he found that strangely comforting, then next thing he knew he was being woken up by Al throwing things at him and later by Fred yelling at him. The last thing he wanted was for his cousins to ask questions. Oh god, they were going to ask questions...

James was aware that Fred had, at some point over the summer, noticed that James didn't sleep much. The one time that he had tried to bring it up, James had played dumb and Fred had taken note of the off-limits topic. Still, there was no doubt that Fred had said something, if the concerned look from Rose was anything to go by. James supposed that at least two good things had come from the whole incident. The first was that Lily had graciously not moved and allowed him to get an hour of sleep. The second, greater, reason was that Fred had made sure Al would try out for seeker. James had no intentions of training a new seeker when Albus was right there, and good at that. He trusted Malfoy to make sure his brother actually went to the tryouts.

He sighed and opened his eyes, only to be met with the dull grey light of early morning. Running a hand over his face, James replaced his wand under his pillow, listening to the sounds of the breathing in the dormitory. After all of these years, James would have been able to pick out Fred's breathing anywhere. When they were first years, James and Fred had ganged up on Isaac Jones to make sure that their beds were as close together as possible. Fred knew him better than almost anyone, save maybe Al, and thus James found it near impossible that Fred didn't know about his nightly excursions to the Room of Requirement. That particular habit had started several weeks before O.W.L.s fifth year.

Giving up sleep as a lost cause, James once again took his wand from his pillow and got out of bed. He made his way over to the window and opened it, then swung himself onto the bench, one leg hanging out of the window. James leaned forward slightly, letting the adrenaline rush overcome his racing mind, and watched the sun rise.

James was sixteen years old. At the age of sixteen, his father had been fighting, or at least preparing to fight, a war. Harry Potter wasn't a child at sixteen, and neither was his son. James Potter was fighting a war too, but his was one nobody could see, and, James thought bitterly, nobody could end.

In four hours, the day would begin. For now, James was alone with his thoughts.

* * *

 _6:44 am_

 _Albus_

Albus Potter preferred working in the background.

At least, he thought he would. Having never actually been in the background, there was no way to know for sure.

From what Uncle Charlie had told him once, there had been uproar when James was born. The Boy Who Lived, reproducing, had been an equivalent to the birth of a new prince. The little baby had been the darling of the wizarding world. They had been tailed by reporters from the minute they left the hospital, even more so than usual. And then, when James was nine months old, Ginny Potter was pregnant again. Somewhere around seven months after that announcement leaked to the press, James had a younger brother.

Albus had apparently looked exactly like his father then too. The people went wild for the little baby with the big green eyes.

Even two years later, when his little sister Lily was born, the public had always had a special liking to the middle Potter child. So Al had grown up with cameras flashing in his peripheral vision. His mother and father had always done a good job of keeping the media well and away from their family's private life, but even the Potters couldn't keep cameras away anytime they were in public. There had been magazine spreads, polls on the favorite child, front page pictures, and anything else you could think of. One time, Uncle Ron had taken his and Harry's children (along with Teddy) through Diagon Alley and to Uncle George's shop, and the pictures had been featured on every magazine from Witch Weekly to Transfiguration Today. James laughed about the attention and Lily didn't even seem to notice, but it had always bothered Al.

The children of the Potter family hadn't known exactly why they were so famous growing up. They knew that Mum had been an extremely popular Quidditch star before they were born, but people never flocked to her like they did to Dad. And it wasn't a big deal that Lily looked a lot like Ginny, but the fact that Albus looked exactly like Harry was always lauded in the press. When James had turned eleven and gone off to Hogwarts, he had found out and written Albus about it. Al had been suitably shocked, but told him to just write and tell their dad. James had taken this to mean add _Oh, good job with Voldemort by the way_ at the end of one of his letters home. Al's father had choked on his coffee that morning.

The following September, it had been Albus's turn to go to Hogwarts. The reporters had been banned from the platform.

His initial plan upon boarding the train was to do everything in his power to keep himself as inconspicuous as possible. That idea had been utterly and thoroughly shot from the second he and Rose sat down in the same compartment as Scorpius Malfoy. Rose's father had told both of them on several occasions upon learning that Draco had a son the same age as his daughter that it would be for the best if the cousins stayed far away from the young Malfoy. So naturally, being Weasleys, Albus and Rose did the opposite. When all three of the eleven-year-olds had been sorted into Gryffindor, Scorpius had become infamous amongst the students of Hogwarts. Add to that the fact that he had rapidly becoming seemingly attached at the hip with Albus Potter and Rose Weasley, and it wasn't surprising that the three held the attention of most of the school.

Five years of that, and it also wasn't surprising that Albus resented the spotlight a little.

That was why he didn't want the damn prefect's badge. He honestly felt like he just got it because of his last name, or his eyes, or any other god-forsaken reason the papers had used to christen him the gem of the wizarding world. Even though some part of him did know that McGonagall couldn't care less if he was famous, and that his last name hadn't gotten James prefect.

Albus was roused from his recollections when Simon Corner threw a shoe at Jon Watters' head, causing Jon to throw the shoe back, but missing grandly and nearly taking out Albus's eye. He had been lying awake on top of his bead, trying to work up the energy to begin the daily practice of waking Scorpius up. Some days, he found it amusing, but he could just tell that he was in no mood for the usual mumbled swearing and occasional half-conscious physical violence that accompanied the procedure. He had had enough of that last night with James.

Speaking of which, he really had to remember to get Fred back for that. Apparently, he was going to be Gryffindor's new seeker. Somehow. It didn't matter that Fred had been right, that between his brother and Scorpius, they had already mostly convinced him to do it anyway. It was the principle of the matter.

Luckily for Al, all it took was a couple of hits to the head with a pillow and a mild freezing charm to get Scorpius suitably awake and out of bed. Albus, who was already dressed, watched with amusement as the three other boys in the dormitory got ready for the morning. Simon, Jon, and Alex had been as close as Rose, Scorpius, and Albus for equally as long (at least for Scorpius's part). Alex, whose father was Uncle George's best friend, had been around a lot during their childhood. The boy was far closer to James and Fred, but Al liked him fairly well. Albus and Simon had figured out in third year that Albus's mum and Simon's dad had dated in Hogwarts, and it had been a running joke ever since. Jon was a muggleborn and far quieter than the other two, but Albus got the idea that he was the brains of the trio. It made for an intersesting show.

Ten minutes later, Scorpius reappeared from the washroom fully dressed. While Albus himself had grown up slightly over the summer, all he had really accomplished was appearing even ganglier and looking even more like James. Scorpius, on the other hand, was now slightly taller than even Albus (who had had a good two inches on him for the entirety of their friendship) and had none of the awkward physical traits usually associated with an almost sixteen-year-old boy. Albus would be jealous, save for the fact that he knew that those particular genetics were indicative of the pureblood family, something which Scorpius had always been more or less disillusioned by. Scorpius grabbed his bag headed for the door. When he saw Al wasn't following, and instead was staring off into space, he stepped directly into Albus's line of vision and started waving his hand around wildly.

Albus shook himself, stood up, grabbed his own bag and the two left for breakfast.

He had a feeling this would be a long day.

* * *

 _7:30 am_

 _Rose_

When she was five, Rose had wanted to fly. Shortly after voicing this desire, Aunt Ginny had taken her out on a broom, and Rose had discovered flying wasn't her thing.

When she was seven, Rose had wanted to be her mother. Six months later, Mum had gotten a promotion and wasn't at home quite as often. Rose had vowed then that she would never give her dad the look that he got when her mum came home for dinner then left again for work.

When she was ten, Rose had wanted to be a potions master. She learned from her beginner's kit that it made her hair even frizzier.

When she was thirteen, Rose had wanted to be a writer. Turns out she like to read just a little too much to bother writing.

Rose Weasley had always had a plan. A direction, something to strive towards. She had also never been afraid to derail one plan when another, better, one presented itself. Naturally, it was a bit disconcerting when she was without one for the first time, at the age of fifteen. Rose was sure, however, that plenty of people didn't know what they wanted so young. She just wasn't used to being one of them.

For Rose, strategy was everything. It was why she awoke at precisely 6:15 every morning, school or no school, then left her dorm at 7:25. That gave her exactly enough time to shower, dress, and do other necessities while still leaving her half an hour for breakfast. She had left the dorm at 7:26 this morning, and therefore needed to hurry. She couldn't have Al and Scorpius beat her down there, that would be practically criminal.

"Rose!" someone called. She stopped and turned. When she saw who was calling, Rose smiled and gave a small wave. She supposed she could afford to be a tad less punctual than usual.

"Hello, Adam," she said pleasantly. Adam Goldstein jogged to catch up with her. When he reached her, he gave her a quick side hug. Rose smiled a little wider.

"How're you this morning?" he asked with his own grin. Rose took a second to admire his straight, white teeth before answering.

"I'm well. You?"

"Never better," he replied easily. She got the idea he wasn't lying. The two made the walk to the Great Hall with light conversation. Rose found that spending time in Adam's company made her unable to wipe the smile off her face. He really was attractive, tall with curly, dirty blond hair and bright blue eyes. They had occasionally shared a table in the library, and Rose had always found Adam extremely likable. Rose and he had almost made it in the doors of the Hall when trouble arrived in the form of one Albus Severus Potter. Rose rolled her eyes at the scowl on her cousin's face.

"Goldstein," Al greeted coolly, coming up on Rose's other side. Scorpius, smirk in place, sidled up beside him. The Malfoy seemed to already be finding amusement in the situation as he nodded at the Ravenclaw, the only thing that belayed even a hint of the feelings Albus was so blatantly displaying was a slight glint in his smoky eyes.

Adam's smile never faltered, despite the blatant (or not so) hostilities. "How's it going, Potter?" he cheerfully returned. Scorpius coughed to conceal a laugh.

"Spectacular," Al deadpanned. Scorpius had a full coughing fit. Adam didn't seem to notice.

"Well, I must be off," he said. He bent and kissed Rose on the cheek, and she blushed. Scorpius had stopped trying to conceal his grin, and tilted his head at the blushing Rose, but mercifully said nothing as the three slid into seats around James and Fred. Rose watched James down a cup of coffee in one go, then the concerned look Fred was giving him. She raised an eyebrow at him, but he shook his head imperceptibly. James, who was refilling his mug, was clueless to the silent exchange. Rose gave a mental shrug and turned her attention to the younger Potter, still frowning at the table. She reached across the table and poked him with her fork.

"Do you have an opinion you would like to share with the table, Albus?" He twitched. Rose sighed, knowing it was probably best to get this over with. "Well?"

"How could you let him kiss you!" Al finally burst out after several seconds. James's head snapped up from his breakfast.

"Kiss you!" came his and Fred's simultaneous reply. Scorpius snorted from next to Rose.

"On the cheek," he said with a bemused half-smile. Rose shot him a thankful look. Fred shrugged and went back to his breakfast, but James kept his (slightly bloodshot, she noticed) eyes narrowed slightly and trained on Rose, eerily similar to his brother's expression beside him. Rose glared at the two of them.

"Yes, forgive me Al. I did not know that a kiss on the cheek was offensive to you," she mock pleaded. Al huffed.

"Who are we even talking about?" James, who didn't yet know about Rose's date, asked.

"Adam Goldstein," Albus supplied. James scoffed.

"Rubbish keeper," he declared. Al waved his hands in James's direction.

"See!" he exclaimed. Rose, who had been momentarily stymied by the brothers' identical thought processes, forgot to argue.

"You two freak me out sometimes," Scorpius muttered. "So similar."

James and Albus looked at each other up and down appraisingly, then turned back to their breakfasts. The movement was simultaneous. Rose would have been significantly more freaked out if she hadn't been seeing them do the same kind of thing for her entire life.

"Right," James said at the same time as Al's "sure." The best part was that the brothers genuinely didn't seem to notice themselves doing it. Rose shook her head and Scorpius snickered. Breakfast passed in amicable conversation, with Lily and Hugo dropping by a little later. Lily patted her oldest brother on the head, where some of the tiny braids that James apparently couldn't be bothered to take out were almost invisible from the rest of the thick locks, and offered to deal with them that evening, to which James merely grunted and returned to his cup of coffee. Rose, Albus, and Scorpius, who had Potions, had to leave first. The boys refused to allow her to drag them away as early as she would have liked, so they still had to book it to make it all the way down to the dungeons on time. Rose was in a much better mood today than yesterday, so she let it pass with minimal comment. As the three entered the classroom, Rose pulled her hair into a bun at the back of her neck, to keep it from frizzing too badly.

"Mr. Potter!" came a booming greeting the second they entered the classroom. Albus hid his wince well, Rose thought. "Miss Weasley!" She hoped she did as well.

"Professor," Rose returned weakly. Albus nodded. Scorpius, who Professor Slughorn conveniently forgot to address, walked in behind them and went straight to her seat.

"Will you be attending my first dinner, you two? Only a week from Friday!" Slughorn jovially asked.

"Quidditch tryouts," came Albus's automatic reply. Scorpius's and Rose's eyebrows shot up automatically. "What? They are," he hissed out of the corner of his mouth to Rose's bemused look. Well, at least that explained James's scheduling choice. Slughorn clapped his hands.

"Oh, I do hope you make the team, Mr. Potter," he said with a wink. "It will be just like going back in time to your father's days here. I have always wanted to get him to come back for one of my gatherings, for memory's sake," he finished with a wistful look. Rose tried not to laugh at the idea of Uncle Harry attending one of these gatherings as an adult. She knew for a fact where James got the idea to schedule Quidditch on next Friday night. "Miss Weasley?" the professor returned to Rose.

"I… uh…" she said, thinking madly for an excuse. Scorpius, who had gotten up to talk to Jonathan Watters, mouthed _Hugo_ over the large professor's shoulder. "I'm tutoring my brother in Charms!" Rose finished triumphantly. She would have to remember to tell Hugo. Slughorn nodded, patted Rose on her shoulder, and called the class to attention. The double period passed fairly quickly in one extremely boring, repetitive O.W.L lecture and a very easy review brewing of Wit-sharpening Potion during which no less than four cauldrons were destroyed. Laden with a short essay, the fifth years left the dungeons for lunch, chatting quite happily.

Rose would wish, before she went to bed that night, that the rest of the day had stayed so relatively uninteresting.

* * *

 _11:06 am_

 _Fred_

When Fred Weasley II was a third year, Professor Creevey had done the traditional lesson on boggarts, as had been done ever since Teddy's dad was a professor. After watching Isa Benson give a giant snake a sweater, James and he had been suitably pumped. They really should have thought better of it. James, being a Potter, had gone first out of the two. When a swirling night sky appeared over the class' heads, Fred had been extremely confused. However, with nothing but a scowl and a muttered _Ridikkulus_ , the sun had risen and the next person in line had stepped up. Fred, very curious, had asked James what that was all about but received no answer. The matter was completely forgotten when Fred's own name had been called.

A slightly less enthusiastic but still overly confident Fred Weasley had stepped up, and when the previous student's severed leg in a high heel and fishnet dissipated, Fred had frozen in his tracks. The sharp intake of breath from behind him and from the professor confirmed his suspicions as the figure turned around. Smirking back at young Fred was his long dead uncle, regaled in the dragon skin suit that he recognized from the photo on his Dad's desk. The boggart tipped his hat at Fred in a grandiose bow, then straightened, smirk turning into a sneer.

"Replacement," it hissed. It stepped closer, and the sneer transformed into a full grin. "Look at you," it said lightly. A hand picked up a piece of Fred's dark, spiraling hair and pulled lightly. "Not even a proper Weasley." The boggart's hand trailed down to his coffee brown cheek and patted it. "I reckon George can barely say your name," boggart-Fred taunted. "Freddy."

" _R-ridikkulus_ ," Fred stammered out. The boggart laughed hard.

That was the problem when Fred Weasley I was your boggart. Nothing had fed his endurance quite like laughter. What hurt worse was that Fred was fairly sure his uncle/boggart was right. When Fred looked in the mirror, he saw wild dark hair and brown skin. The only thing that even remotely said "Weasley" was the set of clear blue eyes. And his father didn't call him Fred, never had. Mum said it was too painful for him.

Fred was vaguely aware of Professor Creevey yelling something to James, and James rushing out of the room. The professor stepped in front of the boggart, and the body of a small teenage boy appeared on the ground. Several people screamed as the body dissipated to dust, but Fred had hardly noticed, as he was on his knees, breathing heavily and hands fisted in his dark curls. He heard James return and felt him kneel beside him, with Roxanne in tow. Just a first year then, she had pulled him into a hug and let her older brother cry into her shoulder. Fred had learned two years later that James hadn't even been asked to bring her, but did anyway.

What James had been asked to do, Fred had found out several minutes later, was find Professor Longbottom, and tell him to contact Fred's dad. George Weasley had come storming out of the fireplace, nearly trampled the head of Gryffindor, then ran all the way to his son, daughter, and nephew. All Neville had gotten out was "It's Fred, we need you to come ov-" He had been slightly confused to find a grim looking Dennis Creevey holding watch over a sobbing Fred who was clinging to his tiny younger sister while James watched helplessly. Nevertheless, he had plucked his thirteen-year-old son right off the ground and pulled him into a bone crushing embrace. Eventually, the familiar scent of potions and mild sulfur had calmed Fred down to a point where he could brokenly explain what happened, gaps filled in by James.

Fred had never forgotten a second of that experience, and today he relived it again, but not for the same reasons as usual. As he watched his best friend and cousin pick over his lunch uninterestedly, head propped on one hand, Fred was vividly recalling James's boggart. _Three years?_ It seemed impossible that been going on for years, but the evidence was right there. And he had already seemed so _resigned_ to see that swirling sky, like he half expected it! It was maddening. James narrowed his eyes and raised them to meet Fred's blue-eyed gaze.

"What?" he snapped.

Fred shook his head and said nothing, returning to his own lunch. "Nothing. Nothing at all," he answered mildly. _Yeah, nothing except the fact that I found you halfway hanging out the bloody window at four in the morning._ Fred had gotten good at appearing uninterested over the years. It was very useful when being interrogated.

James, unfortunately, was the one who taught him how. "Are you sure? You seem like you have something to say," he said acidly.

"You just seem… well, exhausted actually," Fred said carefully, scrutinizing the other boy's face carefully. Sure enough, James's eyes widened fractionally. Fred understood why. He'd never broached the subject before. He figured he might as well dive right in at this point. "Are you sleeping alright?" he asked casually. _The more appropriate question would have been at all, Fred. My guess is no._

Sure enough, James gave a bit of a dry chuckle. "Great. Fabulous. Like a baby," he shot off, sarcasm thick. It was a mark of how out of it James was that he wasn't even putting on an act. Fred cocked his head, thinking through how to play this. He could, A: drag James down to the hospital wing for some enforced bedrest, B: owl Aunt Ginny, C: play dumb and work with the plan forming in the back of his mind. Plan A Fred immediately ruled out. Knowing James Potter, he would have broken out of there before Old Madam Pomfrey could even get him in a bed. Plan B, he would not resort to unless absolutely necessary and only with the approval of the two other Potter siblings, as he was fairly sure James would never forgive Fred for telling on him to his mum. Plan C, however…

Fred nodded, keeping his eyes back onto his plate. "Alright, if you say so, I guess," he conceded, reaching for a biscuit. He caught James's bewildered look out of the corner of his eye and sighed. "I'm not going to force you to do anything, Jay." _Not with you aware of it, at least._ He smiled slightly at the flash of pure relief that washed over James's face before it was covered up again.

Fred began to work out the plan in his head. He needed to talk to Albus alone, and Lily too. If he could get Lou, that would make life a lot easier. The pieces were coming together.

 _Think of it like a prank, otherwise you'll freak out, Fred. Think of it like a prank…_

* * *

 _1:02 pm_

 _Louis_

Louis Monsieur Weasley straightened the head boy badge on his lapel and turned to glare at the person who had pulled him into this dratted broom closet. Expecting to find the usual wide grin on his cousin's face, Louis was very surprised to see the worried frown and distracted blue eyes. His haughty features softened instantly.

"Listen quick Lou," Fred began without preamble. "I have about two minutes before James comes bursting in here." He shot an uneasy glance at the door. Louis had no idea how on Earth James could possibly find them here, but he had long ago learned not to question things like that when in regards to the Potters.

"Fred, are you alright?" Louis whispered.

"Oh, I'm mostly fine, it's James we're worried about." Louis's pale eyebrows shot up. Fred continued, eyes still trained on the door. "Look, don't ask questions for now. I promise I'll explain later." He blew out a breath of air, disrupting the lock of curls that had fallen in his face, then looked Louis directly in the eyes. "I need you to steal a calming draught, dizziness draught, and a dreamless sleep." If possible, the eighth-veela's eyebrows raised further.

"I'm going to need to know why, Fred," Louis replied warily.

Fred shot him a long suffering look, as if this was a completely unreasonable request. He sighed. "I'm going to drug James, and ol'Sluggy likes you better than me." Louis tilted his head in contemplation.

"The old guy practically worships Al, why not ask him?" he asked after a quick moment. The he blinked. "DRUG HIM?"

"I need him for another part of the plan," Fred replied easily, ignoring Louis's second question. Somehow this did not surprise Louis at all.

"I'll assume Lily's out of commission too," he said resignedly. Fred nodded.

"She won't be able to reach, anyway. Do you know how hard it is to pull one over on James Potter? Not easy, even if it's for the bastard's own damn good." Louis was beginning to grow slightly worried for his cousin now. The jury was still out on for which one that was.

"What time do you need them?" he sighed. Fred grinned just as a loud banging began on the door.

"Shit!" he whispered. Louis pressed himself into a wall as the banging got louder. Fred shook his head.

"Don't bother, he knows you're in here. Did I mention he's in a bit of a pissy mood, well, for the last… while," Fred grimaced. Louis ignored the "he knows you're here" to file away for further examination. "Have them before dinner." Louis nodded.

"FRED WEASLEY! I KNOW YOU AREN'T SNOGGING LOU IN THERE!"

Fred rested his head on the wall and gave Louis a drained look. Louis was distinctly feeling sorry for Fred more so than James at the moment. Louis put on his best, most Fleur Weasley, smile and cracked open the door to the face of a reasonably angry looking James Potter. It was true, the bloke had looked better.

"I'll be going now, Fred," Louis said with a jaunty wave and a wink. "She is quite fit, you could do worse, you know." He turned his back with a smirk. Let James mull that over on his own, Louis had some potions to steal. Oh, he couldn't wait to write Lucy about this.

* * *

 _2:52 pm_

 _Lily_

"Ow, Hugo!" Lily exclaimed. She hopped on her trodden foot. "Watch where you're going with those things."

Hugo paid her no mind, and kept hurrying down the corridor. "Hurry Lil, Fred said three minutes after last period. It's two minutes after last period."

"You sound like Rose," Lily teased. Hugo scowled.

"Hush, you know James has the map. If we do it any other time it will look planned."

Lily blinked. "How do _you_ know about the map!" she asked incredulously.

"Dad told me after James nicked it from your dad's office." Lily rolled her eyes.

"I'll bet he's been waiting to tell you since the day you were born."

"I'm sure," Hugo conceded. "Now move your little legs, girl! I need to know what's so important, and why James can't know."

"Not all of us can be born at six feet tall, you know," she grumbled, but quickened her pace, admittedly curious as to what the usually inseparable Fred and James could have to hide from each other. The pair moved quickly around a corner, arriving on the fifth floor. They were shortly met by Fred, and the three continued to hurry at an equal pace, down to the third floor and back toward the staircase to Gryffindor tower, talking all the way. By the end of their journey, Fred was out of breath from talking and Lily and Hugo wore identical stunned looks.

"You're going to do what to my brother?" Lily said.

"Dose him with a small variety of potions until he sleeps for at least six hours straight," Fred replied. He looked uneasy for a second, as if debating telling her something. "He, well, let's just say that him falling asleep in the common room yesterday was about as much sleep he's gotten since we've been back at Hogwarts." Lily and Hugo frowned.

"Merlin…" Lily breathed. She knotted a hand into her long red hair. "Did you tell Al? I don't know how much help we'll be." She looked off, out the window. Hugo took over the talking.

"How can we help?" he asked.

"Please just find him. I need to talk to Roxy, then longer with Al, and I can't have Jay find me again." Lily and Hugo shared a look, then nodded.

"Where did you leave him?"

"He was headed to the common room, last I saw. I really have to get going," he grimaced. "Good luck, he gets kind of hard to take after between six and ten seconds." Fred nodded and took off at a jog toward the Great Hall. Lily sighed, not liking the way this was going already.

"Chrysanthemum," she informed the Fat Lady. The painting opened with a smile.

"Christ," Hugo muttered. Normally Lily would have said something about the muggle term, but that was perhaps the best way to sum up the state of her oldest brother upon entering the common room. She watched the first-years scatter.

"How are we supposed to deal with this again?" Lily murmured back.

"Good cop/bad cop?" Hugo offered feebly. He rubbed a hand over his face at Lily's look. "Muggle term."

"I think bad anything might just cause him to explode. I would say he wasn't like this yesterday, but he was asleep for like the entire time we were together." Lily glanced back at her brother, who was now hunched over a textbook, glaring at it forcefully but doubtlessly getting no reading done. She sighed. "I kind of wish Mum was here. She's been dealing with Dad's mood swings for like twenty years, she could handle this much better than me."

"I'm pretty sure Aunt Ginny would just call him a prat, Lil."

"Well yeah, but it always makes them snap out of it. If I call him a prat, he'll snap me," Lily countered. "Let's just get this over with. Follow me." She marched over and threw herself down opposite James, Hugo trailing behind, then sitting calmly beside her. Brother and sister glared at each other for a solid minute, leaving one very uncomfortable cousin. During said staring contest, Lily got her first up close look at James in days. His eyes were bloodshot, and his tie was loosened, the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and he looked quite pale. She made sure not to let any concern show on her face, as she had a feeling that if Fred was resorting to drugging him with sleeping potions, pity wouldn't go over well.

"Do you need something?" James finally gritted out. It appeared to take every ounce of strength he had to not chase her off with the first years. Lily folded her arms on the table and bit back a retort. She smiled.

"No, I'm fine. Hugo?" Hugo sent her a _I'd rather not get into this_ look, which she ignored. He closed his eyes, as if in pain, before answering with a shake of the head.

"Then why are you here." It wasn't a question; it was a "go away," but Lily had no intentions of leaving.

"I need permission now to sit down?" she scoffed. Lily was making silent bets with herself for how long James would last before yelling at them. "Go back to trying to light that book on fire with your eyes James, Hugo and I are doing potions." Playing along, Hugo pulled his textbook and a piece of parchment out of his bag. Lily got her own parchment and two quills, handing one to Hugo. The two cousins had a well worked out system for homework, where Hugo supplied the textbook and Lily the quills. If Hugo carried his own quills, they would inevitably get snapped in his bag.

"Fine, whatever. Don't talk," James huffed. Lily started scribbling on her parchment and edged closer to Hugo.

 ** _He was hard to take before we even sat down – L_**

Hugo glanced at his parchment. Over Christmas hols second year, Lily and Hugo had worked nonstop to make charmed parchments that communicated with each other. Lily had wanted to add to the family heirloom collection, and Hugo had been bored. The messages erased after ten seconds.

 **Don't talk? Is he hungover? – H**

 ** _As good as, I think – L_**

 **Poor bloke. I hope Fred's right about this. Are we actually going to do potions? – H**

 ** _Me too. We might as well, I suppose. It's not like we can talk without James leaving, and he can't leave – L_**

 **I don't care what he's got the others doing, Fred owes us for this. – H**

 ** _He so does. I love my brothers, but this is ridiculous. What does he have the others doing? – L_**

 **He's got someone stealing potions. Do you even think Al will agree to drugging his brother? – H**

 ** _Oh yeah. I know Al is already worried. I'm just worried that this isn't a permanent solution – L_**

 **I am as well. I have an idea, though. Do you trust me? – H**

 ** _What kind of question is that? – L_**

 **Well? – H**

 ** _Of course I do, Hugo, but can we please just leave him be? – L_**

 **No, this is better, we're going to distract him. Act how you would if he wasn't there. – H**

Lily watched the ink fade and gave a small nod at her cousin. He grinned, then knocked an inkwell on the table between them over onto her parchment, keeping his under the textbook. Lily swore. Right on cue, James looked up to glare at her. Remembering what Hugo's instructions said, she turned to glare at him, ignoring her brother.

"Hugo!" Lily exclaimed. She thought for a second before continuing. "We worked for weeks on that!" Hugo grinned wider, letting her know that was indeed what he had wanted her to say. His smile dropped and his face turned apologetic.

"I'm sorry Lil!" Hugo took out his wand and began to siphon the ink off. He shot her a falsely worried glance, before speaking carefully. "Do you think the charms are okay?" Lily now realized, as she saw James's eyes grow curious, exactly what Hugo was trying to do.

"Ink shouldn't hurt them, hopefully. Do you still have the list?" she said slowly.

"I do," Hugo replied. He took off the rest of the ink with a flick, then groaned. "Merlin, if it doesn't work we're going to have to redo all of them."

"Well just test it, then. No sense in prolonging the inevitable," Lily sighed. She tried not to laugh when Hugo took out his parchment in the least conspicuous way possible.

 **Brilliant, yeah? – H**

 ** _Admittedly yes. For future reference, large quantities of ink need to be dealt with manually – L_**

 **I'll put it on the list. Now we wait. – H**

They waited for the ink to fade, before turning and grinning at each other.

"Thank goodness. My masterpiece is safe," Lily sighed dramatically.

"How else would we talk in class?" Hugo agreed. All three were silent for a second.

"What the hell?" James finally broke the silence. Lily and Hugo turned their smiles on him.

"The charms are working, James. It's a happy day," Hugo smirked.

"Happy, happy, day," Lily repeated.

"What charms?" James asked, eyes narrowed. His book had been passed to the side.

"You see, beginning of second year, Lily and I kept getting in trouble with Professor Flitwick for passing notes," Hugo began.

"Which is ridiculous, because Charms," Lily interrupted.

"Anyway, Lily got moved to sit by Ora Bulstrode," he continued.

"She smells like cat piss," Lily supplied helpfully.

"So we needed to find a new way to pass notes, and we got in trouble again for throwing them at each other," Hugo finished.

"Also for using the ministry airplane thing. Although, we did get extra credit for that one," Lily added. "If Flitwick knew about this…" Lily sighed wistfully. James raised his eyebrows. He gestured at the parchments.

"Get to the point."

"Touchy, you are. I'm not sure we want to share our masterpiece," Lily said innocently. "Do we, Hugo?"

Hugo looked at James thoughtfully. "D'you think he'd give us money for the idea? If we tell him, he's gonna recreate it."

"Brats," James snapped, but Lily could tell he was too interested to leave the issue. She grinned at him.

"Yeah I reckon he might. Uncle George would pay better though."

Hugo nodded. "Eh, just tell him. It can't hurt anything. I think telling Uncle George would cheapen the accomplishment, anyway."

Lily nodded back. "You have to promise not to tell anyone."

"Fine, now will you get to the point," James agreed irritably. Hugo pushed his parchment and quill across to James, and Lily moved to sit beside him with her own.

"Write something," Hugo instructed. James made a line across the paper.

"You have to write words, James," Lily chided. James scowled, but obliged.

 _James Sirius Potter_ scrawled across both parchments.

Lily smiled, and pushed her parchment towards him. His eyes widened.

"Merlin," James breathed. Lily and Hugo smiled proudly. He looked up at them. "You did this?"

"Lily's got a knack for Charms. I was the one that had to break into the Restricted section," Hugo informed him.

"I got the idea from those mirrors Dad was told us about," Lily said.

James nodded distractedly. "Yeah, he only ever mentioned those once. I always thought they'd be cool to have, but Dad doesn't have them anymore."

"Well, those were too complicated for two second years, so we didn't try," Hugo sighed. "It would have been so much cooler."

"This is too complicated for too second years!" James pointed out. Lily perked up.

"D'you think the mirrors would be too complicated for two third years and a sixth year?" she asked excitedly.

"I don't know," James answered tiredly. "I don't know when I'd have time for something like that, if the parchments took you weeks." He ran a hand through his hair.

"Probably not," Hugo cut in. "A lot of the charms would be the same, though."

Lily tilted her head. "Ask the map."

"What?" James and Hugo exclaimed simultaneously.

"Dad's dad made them, didn't he? With Sirius?"

"I suppose. You do know the map just insults you, yeah?" James incredulously asked. His bad mood, temporarily chased away by curiosity, was coming back.

"It can't hurt," Hugo shrugged. "We'll do it another day."

"We should give them to dad, if we end up making them," Lily mused. James nodded, pulling his book back towards him. Lily returned to Hugo's side and handed him his parchment.

 ** _At least he appears to be actually reading now. Now all we have to do is make sure he doesn't go chasing after Fred. He does look awful, doesn't he? – L_**

 **That's good, hopefully, and yes he does. Can we actually do potions now? – H**

* * *

 _3:15 pm_

 _Roxanne_

As the first Hufflepuff Weasley in generations, Roxy had been asked some fairly strange questions by her family as to life in the house of the badger. Never mind that Teddy had been a Hufflepuff, and was asked nothing of the sort. This, however, had to be the strangest thing she had heard from one of them in a while.

Of course said question would come from her brother.

"What?" Roxanne asked again, stupified.

"I _said_ , can you convince a house elf to slip something in James's drink?" Fred repeated impatiently. She looked her brother up and down, quickly concluding that he certainly looked stressed. _Yes, because all Hufflepuffs were automatically chummy with the house elves._ Not that Fred was wrong. Roxanne sighed, slightly dismayed at how easily Fred's request could be filled.

"Do you have your potions?" Roxanne questioned resignedly.

"Yes," Fred answered, relieved.

"Come on," she said. Roxy stuck her head in the door of her common room. "Lorcan!" she called. A few seconds later, two identical caramel-skinned boys were coming out of the door. Roxanne blinked. "Okay, Lysander too, for some reason. I need one or both of you to convince Gams to slip these in James Potter's pumpkin juice at dinner. Ok?" She held out the potions, which the twin in the blue tie took. They took off down the hall, Weasleys trailing a few paces behind. Abruptly, the twins stopped.

"Watch this," Roxanne murmured to her brother.

"Gams!" Lorcan, the Hufflepuff twin said in a sing-song voice. An old elf popped up right next to Lysander. Fred nudged her.

"The Scamanders have a house elf?" he whispered. "That seems very un-Luna like."

"Oh, no. We call Lorcan the house elf whisperer down here. We think he and Lysander spent most of their first year in the kitchens, just to talk to the elves," Roxanne said as Lorcan and Lysander knelt down in quiet negotiations with the elf. "Gams is a smarmy little bugger, but it makes him easy to bribe." A minute later, the twins rose and turned to Fred and Roxy in an identical movement.

"He'll do it, but he wants your tie," Lysander announced, wide silvery eyes trained on Fred.

"Then he'll only need a Slytherin," Lorcan added knowledgably. Fred shot glance out of the side of his eye at the old elf, then shrugged and pulled off his red and gold tie. Roxanne had a feeling filling this request was not the strangest thing her brother had done today. Fred handed Gams his tie and Lysander gave him the two potion bottles. The two left Lorcan and Lysander with a goodbye and headed back toward her common room. Roxanne watched anxiously as Fred walked next to her, pulling at his collar and eyes unfocused. She sighed, stopping in front of the entrance and pulling her big brother into a hug. He looked like he needed it.

Roxanne had been jealous as a child of James. James and Fred were as close as any brothers, and it had seemed to the young girl that she would always come second to her real, _blood_ , brother. Victoire had always had Teddy (she married him after all), Molly had Dominique, Lucy had Louis, Albus had Rose, Lily had Hugo… Roxanne, always caught in the middle…

She liked to think that she had matured since she was seven. Those petty jealousies had died out ages ago, and now all she saw was her real, _blood_ , brother freaking out about his own no less real, but a little less blood, brother. Roxanne was all too happy to help him where she could, even if all she could do was summon some house elf negotiators and provide hugs. No one could do comfort quite like a Hufflepuff.

Sending Fred off with a kiss on the cheek, she entered the homey Hufflepuff common room, sank down onto a yellow couch, and rubbed her brown eyes. Aunt Ginny was going to flip when she found out half her family was conspiring to drug her eldest son, but Roxanne trusted Fred, and James was definitely far too proud to deal with his problems in any reasonable way.

Yes, that in particular was a defining trait of most of her family. Made Roxanne glad to be a Hufflepuff. If she needed a Hufflepuff to take a sleeping potion, all she would have to do is ask.

Not that it mattered, because James Potter was definitely not a Hufflepuff.

It was going to be an interesting evening.

* * *

 _4:25 pm_

 _Albus (again)_

Albus, Scorpius, and Rose were seated on the floor of a small, circular, chamber. This particular place, so obscure that it was beyond even the knowledge of the Marauder's Map, was one found by the trio in the beginning of first year in a failed attempt to get to Transfiguration. Some five years later, it was still Al's favorite place to come and think, something he had desperately needed to do after speaking with his cousin a half hour ago. Rose and Scorpius had followed him, something Albus wasn't sure if he should be thankful or not for. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, trying to fight down an insane urge to cry. Or be sick. Either one sounded entirely plausible.

Albus had, in theory, known that something had been off about his brother for a few weeks. Months, perhaps, at most. This was insane though. Years seemed entirely impossible, despite the evidence. That was what was making him sick, in particular, the fact that there was so _much_ evidence, yet no one had noticed anything wrong until recently when James had gotten sloppy. In his memories, though, it was now so glaringly obvious that Albus would quite like to bang his head against a wall. Repeatedly. Someone should have noticed the carefully constructed carefree, slightly lopsided, grin, identical to one from years ago, when they were young children and James was actually carefree, but in hindsight so practiced, so wrong. It was like being forcibly introduced to a new person, one that you had to meet but would really rather stay oblivious to.

Rose immediately, upon hearing what Fred was planning to do, started protesting. Scorpius, being more removed from the situation, had stayed stoic as ever, but immediately begun to watch Albus. Al, for his part, had stayed silent for several minutes after Fred's explanation as all three of the people present had watched him. He had, eventually and speaking for his friends as well, agreed to help Fred. No long term solutions were going to come when your patient was running off one hour of sleep a week, and he knew his brother well enough to know that there was no way James would even talk about this, much less allow someone else to help him willingly. Unwillingly would have to do for today.

Albus's group didn't come into the plan until later, after the first two potions had been administered. That gave them both the hardest job, as well as plenty of time to worry about it. Rose and Scorpius had gone into full detached-from-reality-strategizing mode several minutes ago. Al had never been one for detaching himself from reality, and was mercifully left to absorb all of this information alone. Which was what he was trying to do now, but –

"I'm telling you, that won't work!"

"Why not? He'll be ill and practically sedated, it should be fairly easy to convince him that it's a Pepper-up."

"He'll be calm, not stupid!"

Albus buried his head in his arms and groaned. He was ignored.

"What's your idea then?"

"I never said I had one!"

"We could just stun him…"

"That's worse."

"Would you two shut up!" Two heads snapped towards Albus, who was looking at them reproachfully. "I can't hear myself think!"

"Al— " began Rose, but she was quickly shushed.

"This is mad. Absolutely insane."

"That about covers it, mate," Scorpius agreed.

Al got up and began pacing. "Alright. Okay. Pretend that this isn't my brother we're trying to drug. Not James. Okay. What would we do if this was just some random Hufflepuff."

"You're babbling," Rose pointed out.

"I've never been able to do strategy."

"We can, though."

"Yes, but…" Al hesitated. "Look, neither of you fully understand the situation." He sat back down, this time closer two the other two, ignoring the indignant glare from Rose. They formed a rough triangle, with Scorpius and Rose against the wall. "It's just, James is really good at keeping things from other people if he doesn't want them to know." Albus gave a defeated laugh. "I don't think anyone knew quite how good until today. So, he can't know anything's up until it's too late."

"So we can't stun him," Rose said with a triumphant look at Scorpius, who shrugged.

"I wasn't suggesting it. It was a comparison."

"Guys!" Al interrupted exasperatedly.

"Sorry," they chorused.

"Okay, so they slip the calming and dizziness draughts in his drink at dinner," Al said.

"Yes," Rose confirmed.

"That's in what, an hour?"

"Fred said he was going back up to the common room, then leaving for the Great Hall at 5:30," said Scorpius. He glanced at his watch. "So about forty-five minutes. Did either of you catch how he's managed that?"

"I think he said something about the Scamanders," Albus absently recalled. "Anyway, how long until the potions go into effect?"

Rose snapped into student mode. "Probably about ten minutes for the dizziness to take full effect, five for the calming draught."

An idea was forming in the back of Al's mind. "Okay… I feel like we could use that time difference to our advantage." He looked thoughtful. Then, as if a light turned on in his head, it hit him. "Oh this is good. Very good."

Rose looked understandably worried at the slightly hysterical grin on his face, but Scorpius had apparently decided to just go with it. He leaned forward elegantly in a move that Albus was sure he'd seen Mr. Malfoy use at least once, though not sitting on a stone floor, folding his hands.

"Well, let's hear it then."

* * *

 _5:22 pm_

 _Hugo_

All in all, Hugo figured he'd had stranger days.

Once, when he was four, Rose had pretended he was a girl for twelve hours before anyone noticed he was wearing a dress. In first year Lily had convinced him to steal her brothers' brooms and ride them through the halls of the school. The day they had decided to make the parchments was up there.

So really, what was helping drug your cousin with five or six of your other cousins?

Really, really strange. That's what. Because this, unlike everything else Fred had ever proposed to Hugo and Lily, wasn't a prank.

Hugo, unlike his sister, was a realist. Rose kept her expectations in the clouds, and attempted to reach them. He had no expectations, and therefore was not crushed like his sister when they were not met. Uncle Harry was like that a lot. For a man who destroyed history's darkest wizard, his expectations of his life were shockingly… almost absent. Hugo's favorite uncle probably would not be thrilled about this development involving his children, however.

If Rose's expectations were in the clouds, Lily's head was up there with them. Sometimes people asked Hugo why he was so close with his polar opposite cousin, to which Hugo replied with the correct answer. Hugo had _literally_ been with Lily from the day he was born. Which was two days after Lily, in the next hospital room over. He actually had no idea how to live without her. If Albus and Rose were best friends, then James and Fred were brothers, and Hugo and Lily were twins. They even kind of looked the part, what with the hair and all. Hugo, at five foot ten, towered enough over the five-foot-tall Lily so that the mistake was not made often.

The pair watched as Albus, Rose, and Scorpius entered the Great Hall for dinner. Rose plunked down next to Hugo and Al next to Rose, with Scorpius following and sitting on Al's other side. Each older sibling began to whisper furiously to the younger. Hugo felt his eyebrows rise almost immediately. What they were planning… it was almost crazy. In light of the rest of the day, however, it was just mad enough to fall in line with everything else.

This was going to be great. Horrible, perhaps, and mean, but definitely great. Like kicking an injured man, thinking him dead, only to have him stand up.

Louis entered the Hall a minute later, and instead of sitting with his older friends, sat down next to Rose and joined in the whispering.

"… to leave, he'll think it's suspicious, but Fred said to give you this," the head boy was saying as Hugo broke from his thoughts. Lou slipped a bottle in Rose's pocket, then got up and moved down the table.

"That'll be the sleeping potion, I suppose," Hugo murmured to his sister. She nodded and slipped the potion to Albus, who inclined his head. "Good luck to you, Lily and I had to break out the big guns earlier in order to keep him from forcibly ejecting us from the common room."

"Big guns?" Rose said back, most likely curious despite herself.

"You don't want to know, and even if you did, I won't tell you." Rose nodded again, but there was no doubt that he would be hearing more on the topic at a later time.

"Scorp, Al needs that side open. Move!" she hissed across the table instead. Malfoy rolled his eyes, but got up and moved to sit next to her, where Louis had been. Hugo absentmindedly did a sweep of the Hall, noting Roxanne with the Hufflepuffs, glancing worriedly at the knot of her cousins at the Gryffindor table. _So Roxy was in on this… Oh, house elves. Clever. I'd bet anything she got Lorcan to work out the first two potions._ _Actually, Lys too. He's the saner one. Slightly._

Hugo was again snapped out of his thoughts when Albus and Lily stopped whispering, which they had been doing the entire time. Looking up from his food, he smiled mildly at James and Fred. James seemed to be arguing with, or more accurately at Fred, who merely looked tired as he half-heartedly quipped back. Fred was carefully to hang behind slightly, allowing James to seat himself next to Albus, before sitting down himself. Hugo, as was his practice, stayed quiet and let Lily talk for the both of them and instead observed. Fascinated, he saw the moment some of the tension left James's shoulders.

Calming Draught.

Seeing everyone else was so busy being fake-normal to pull their heads out of their arses, Hugo rushed to catch Al's eye, and when he did, inclined his head casually toward the older brother. After he was sure Al had caught on, he returned to his "casual observations".

Albus made the same gesture towards Rose, then turned his attention to James. Rose had told Hugo that they had five minutes after this until the dizziness draught came into effect, so he counted out the three hundred seconds absently, watching as Al attempted to engage his brother in some sort of conversation.

 _289_

James seemed to lose focus for a second.

 _295_

Hugo saw Fred suck in a breath.

 _300_

James was now deathly pale. It almost made Hugo feel guilty for all of this. Almost. He watched worriedly as his cousin's hand shook slightly, then as Al whispered something to James.

"I'm fine," James said sharply, then put down his fork and dropped his head into a hand. It seemed like anything the calming draught accomplished was negated now. _I'm Fine._ Hugo almost snorted. It was such a typical Potter reply that he would have laughed had the situation not been what it was.

Albus looked at his brother dubiously. "Yeah, no you're not."

"I'll be fine, just leave me for a second."

Al mouthed _play along_ at Fred over his brother's shoulder. Fred nodded.

"Come on, Jay, you look like you're about to pass out," he said.

"It'll go away in a second."

Lily was looking at Hugo worriedly. He shrugged at her.

"James…" she began.

"No really, Lily, I'm fine."

"You look awful," Lily blurted.

"What did we say about tact, Lil," Hugo chided. She glared, and he ignored her and turned to James. "However, in this case, she's right."

"Thanks," James replied half-heartedly.

"Any time."

"Come on," Al interrupted, taking hold of his brother's shoulder and pulling him to his feet. James stumbled.

"I'm not going to the hospital wing," he argued, but swayed enough that Al had to grab hold of his shoulder. Fred jumped up to help.

Al rolled his eyes. "Of course not," he said good-naturedly, but the fear was evident in his tone. "We'll just take you upstairs."

As the three left the hall, Hugo saw Albus nod over his shoulder at his two friends.

* * *

 _5:47 pm_

 _Back to Fred_

At some point around the third floor, Fred had started to support more of James's weight than James himself. Not that he was apt to complain about it, as this was entirely his idea/problem/fault. Fred was sure that Al was letting him take more of the weight as a payback, anyway. Just four more floors… it was times like these that made him slightly jealous of his sister, her common room only being one level below the kitchens.

Fred turned his attentions back to his cousins. Al looked nearly as pale as his brother, and James kept stumbling every few steps, each time with Albus or Fred catching him. They reached the sixth floor without any further issue, and it had been silently agreed upon by James's escorts that they would stop in the common room as opposed to attempting spiral staircases with his current state. Finally, after what had to have been the longest walk of his life, Al and Fred had deposited James on a sofa and sat down in front of it.

"I'll be back," Al announced, then hurried up the boys' stairs. Fred acknowledged him with a sound that was somewhere between a grunt and a whine, and James didn't seem to notice.

Merlin above, Fred was almost positive this wasn't how dizziness draughts were supposed to affect a man, but it wasn't at all shocking that the effects had ended up stronger than originally intended. Tentatively, Fred put a hand to James's forehead, then pulled it back, burning.

No, that definitely wasn't his work. Or a side effect to either of the potions, as far as Fred knew.

"James, did you know you have a fever?" he asked quietly, attempting something resembling stern.

"Do I?" James mumbled back. "Don't take me to Pomfrey. I don't like that place."

Fred chuckled mirthlessly. "You know, Jay, I think you've said that before."

James gave a crooked smile. If Fred could ignore the glassy eyes, he almost seemed normal. "Where'd Al go?"

"To get some potions, I suppose. You'll drink them?"

"I guess. Can we go up now?"

Fred raised his eyebrows. "Can you walk?" James seemed to think it over.

"Probably," he decided.

"You can probably walk," Fred repeated dubiously.

"Yes," James answered solemnly.

"Up to the sixth year dorm. Up six flights of stairs."

"Yes."

"Fine. But we're waiting for Al," Fred consented.

"'Course," James agreed.

"Because I'm pretty sure you can't walk."

"Mmm."

"Because I will probably let you fall down the stairs."

"No you won't."

"Why not?"

"'Cause you love me."

Fred cracked the first real smile he had since he found James in the window this morning. "What gave you that mad idea?"

"You drugged me."

Silence. Fred, gaping bewilderedly, stared at James.

He turned his head, unfocused eyes trained somewhere above Fred's left shoulder. "C'mon, you really think my mum's never dosed me with calming draught before? I don't even want to know what else you gave me."

"A-and you aren't upset?" Fred finally stammered out.

"'S the beauty of calming draughts, Fred. I probably will be mad tomorrow."

Al took that moment to reenter the common room. Fred scrambled up and rushed over to him.

"Is everything okay?" Al asked anxiously.

"A few new developments. One, he has a fever and is more than a little delirious, so there's that. He wants to go to our dorm, don't know how we manage that, considering the bloke can't stand. Also, he figured out everything," Fred rattled off.

"What?" Al whispered harshly. "And you're still alive?"

"Just go talk to him. Jay said he wasn't mad, but I'm pretty sure he won't remember all this tomorrow. He's too out of it to do anything, anyway. Oh, give me that," Fred said, taking the sleeping potion. Albus shot a nervous glance at his brother, then the two settled themselves back in front of the sofa where James was laying down.

"Hello," Al started. James's eyes opened and he once again tried to focus, then eventually gave up.

"'Lo," he said quietly. He smiled again. "I thought you were Dad there for a second. You know, you look an awful lot like him."

Al groaned and buried his face in a cushion. "Yeah, I've heard it before." Fred stifled a laugh. Al looked up. "How're we supposed to get you upstairs again?"

"I walk."

"Oh Merlin, no. You'll fall down the stairs."

"I can walk."

"We've had this conversation already," Fred supplied. "He's basically a drunk."

"No, you said I'm a mean drunk," James cut in. "I'm not being mean."

"Yes, this is the most pleasant you've been today. When did I tell you you're a mean drunk?"

"Ask me tomorrow," James answered absently. "I'm going up." Albus pushed him back into the couch as he tried to stand.

"At least wait for us," he grumbled. James huffed. "Oh be quiet, we all know you'll die if you try on your own." He bent over and helped James to his feet, anticipating the accompanying stumble. Fred braced his other side, noting how fast any of the color that had returned to James's face disappeared as he stood up.

Five long and slightly painful minutes later, they had gotten James up to the dorm and on the bed. Fred handed him the vial of sleeping potion, which James was eyeing warily. Al had collapsed onto Fred's bed and was running his hands through his hair. All of the sudden, James laughed out loud, a defeated, hysterical sound that sent an involuntary chill down Fred's spine.

"I haven't actually slept in this bed this year," he breathed, hiccupping slightly.

Fred, who was simultaneously shocked and not shocked at all, was silent. Al, however, smiled and sat down on the bed next to his brother, pulling the older boy into a brief hug.

"We're talking about that tomorrow. For now, try and sleep it off," he said, prying the vial from James's fist, uncapping it, then handing it back to him. "Bottoms up." Al watched impassively as James did as he was told, then waited until his older brother was asleep. All was quiet for a moment, then:

"Fred?"

"Yeah?"

"D'you feel bad for letting things get this far?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

"And you think this has been on for years?"

Fred hesitated, then nodded. Al sat back down on the other bed heavily. "He's a good actor."

"That he is."

"We still should have known."

"Also true." They were silent for a minute.

"Watch him for a while, yeah? I'm going to go get him the day off tomorrow. I'll be back," Al said, then got up. Fred watched the door close, then turned back to his sleeping cousin.

"You're an idiot, Jay. I hope you know that," he murmured into the silence. Fred laughed softly, because it was all he could think to do. "An idiot who I'll drug again if necessary, but no less of an idiot."

 _6:29 pm_

* * *

 **A/n:** Oh lord, that was long. This whole thing is, like I said, a clusterfuck, but the purpose of it was partially to give me an excuse to introduce most of the Weasleys (in Hogwarts, at least).

1\. For future reference, if anyone has suggestions for names/genders of child/ren of Teddy and Victoire, that will come into play later on, so leave in reviews. Boy would probably be named Remus no matter what you say, but I am 100% open to other suggestions. Remus William Lupin... hmm.

2\. Story will start slowly at first, if you are here only for Rose/Scorpius, it will come and it will be good, but you're in for a bit of a long haul.

3\. Roxanne is first Hufflepuff Weasley, Louis is in Gryffindor (Lucy was a year older and a Gryffindor), Victoire was a Ravenclaw, Dominique was a Gryffindor, Molly a Ravenclaw. In case anyone was wondering.

4\. I'll get back into Lily in a few chapters, I kind of love her and Hugo's relationship. Maybe we'll see something with Lily and a Scamander later. Once again, insert your suggestions in reviews.

5\. Don't ask where the whole "Jay" thing came from, it was one in the morning when that came up for the first time and I just went with it. It's a Fred thing, no one else is allowed.

6\. This whole story is kind of just me going with whatever pops into my head, so try not to get too mad if one update you get something like this with twelve thousand words and then the next you get one with 5k or something. What is it they say, inconsistency leads to... something...

Reviews!


	4. Recovery and Other Things

**_I AM NOT JK. SADLY. BUT SERIOUSLY, IF I WAS, WOULD I BE POSTING ON ? NO._**

* * *

 _September 5_

James ran down the street at a jog, ignoring the whispers that followed him. He turned randomly, only to find himself in a dead ended alley. Whirling around to leave, he stopped in his tracks when he noticed the handsome man with black hair and dark grey eyes that looked like he had seen them before leaning against a wall. Giving the good-looking stranger no more than a cursory glance, he left the alley at a quicker pace, taking another turn a few yards down, this time to find an identical alley to the last one. James glanced around, confused for some reason he could not name, then tried to leave. The narrow exit was barricaded by two burly redheads that James _knew_ he should recognize, just like the last stranger. They wore identical grins, brown eyes sparkling. It made James highly uncomfortable. Desperate now for an escape, he ducked between them, coming out back onto the main street. This was all very wrong, James was now sure. He had no idea what he was looking for, but he was positive now it was near.

Instinctively, James ran straight on the street, not turning down any of the tiny alleyways that were screaming for him to enter; he wouldn't find anything he wanted there. James faltered for a moment when he passed a boarded up shop with a young man who resembled the pair of redheads in the other alley. This one, more fancily dressed, simply tipped his hat at James then returned to gazing out at nothing. He had a distinct air of one who has been waiting about him. Again a face James felt he knew, but couldn't place.

Continuing his forward path, the buildings thinned and James met a railroad crossing. A seemingly endless train was passing, so James stopped and waited with two others. A man and a woman, the man seemed much older than the woman, who, shockingly, had bright pink hair. She shot a dazzling smile at James, who once again found he could not place her, doubtless as he was that she was familiar to him. The man, who now that James got a good look at, could not have been far more than thirty, smiled wearily. The train abruptly ended, and James jogged across the tracks. The woman with pink hair was standing alone now; the man had disappeared. The other side of the tracks was completely different; instead of the vaguely city-like area he had just left, he now was on the precipice of a thick forest.

A stag appeared from the trees, with strange golden outlines around its hazel eyes. James sat on the grass, watching it. Unexpectedly, a large black dog bounded up and sat on its haunches beside the stag; a sickly looking rat was caught between its teeth. James stared at the rat, which he now recognized as dead, for a while, looking up only when a wolf timidly extricated himself from the trees. It glared with undisguised hatred at the dead rat for a moment, before turning its amber stare to James. James realized suddenly, perhaps belatedly, that the sun was rising. The, wolf went first, its limbs lengthening and shrinking and reshaping, before taking the form of the weary man from the train crossing. James turned around, where he could still see where what he was now sure was the man's wife had been standing, only to find her disappeared. He returned his gaze to the wolf man, whose amber eyes had not left James's face. The man was definitely very familiar; a name came to him out of nowhere, but he was sure he was right.

"Moony," James said simply. The man nodded. The dog seemed amused by the conversation. "Padfoot," he continued, and the dog became the handsome grey-eyed man from the first alley. James sucked in a breath, and turned to the stag. "Prongs."

And it was a mirror. Prongs could have been a brother. The three now human men closed in on James, beginning a panicking sensation that was beyond familiar to James. A beautiful red-haired woman with striking green eyes was next, sidling up next to Prongs. The pink-haired woman did the same next to Moony. The waiting man; the twins from the alley; an old man with a long silver beard, all joining the circle. More now, a handsome teenager next to Padfoot; a girl with honey-blonde curls; a small boy with mousy brown hair. More people continued to arrive from thin air, getting closer to James, making the air near suffocating…

The people were fading into the dark, expressionless faces absorbed by blackness.

The darkness served as no help towards aiding James's rising panic. He was fairly certain all of _that_ was a dream. After all, dead people don't tend to show up when you're awake. This darkness, however, he had no idea if it was real or a figment of his mind. That was another question. He had no recollection of falling asleep in the first place. James knew that Fred had slipped him calming draught; the rest of the night was hazy at best, completely gone for the most part.

Discovering that he could take deep breaths of cool air helped. James used this discovery to decide that he was indeed somewhat awake. Determination pooled in him, along with a desperate need to choke down the panic attack that was still trying to cloud his thinking, and James risked cracking open an eye. This, it turned out, was one of his poorer ideas. Immediately, the soft grey light from behind the bed curtains assaulted his senses, seeming bright compared to the previous absolute blackness. James hissed in pain and clamped his eyes shut again. Almost like an adrenaline rush, the pain allowed him to swing an arm over his face. James noted that he was wearing a uniform shirt, which meant he had been dressed for at least twenty-four hours. It was not enough of a reason to attempt to get out of bed; he had no intentions of doing so without a pain killer.

With his forearm against his eyes, James quickly realized that his skin was hot to even his own touch. So a fever dream. That certainly explained a lot. It also explained why his mind was going slightly fuzzy again. James was suddenly very tired. He would have to move eventually, attempt to find a fever reducer or something, but now… now his bed was really comfortable. Why had he been so desperate to move earlier? The darkness descending over him was nice, his head didn't hurt then. Now he knew he wasn't trapped in his own mind, and he could sleep, right? Right.

Next thing James knew, someone was yanking back the curtains of his bed. Which was very loud, and not a welcome sound.

"Go 'way," James hissed. The person ignored him.

"Should we call someone?" the person said. He knew the voice, but he wasn't quite sure who it was.

"I don't know. If Mum ever figures out we didn't take him to the hospital wing in a state like this, she'll never forgive us. Then again I don't think James would forgive us if we did take him to the hospital wing," a different person said. James was him, he knew that for sure. Hospital wing… no, that would involve moving and he didn't want to do that.

"He did say as much last night," the first voice said. James could vaguely remember that. Both people were quiet for a while. James didn't like the quiet.

"Do I look that bad?" he mumbled.

"Yes, Jay, you do look that bad," the first voice answered. So first voice was Fred. That was helpful.

"I've a fever, you know," James continued.

"Yes, you do. I was hoping that'd break over the eighteen hours you've been asleep, but no," said second voice. Eighteen hours was a long time.

"'M sorry," James replied. Second voice huffed.

"We need a fever reducer, I think. Any ideas?" Fred asked.

"Oh! Rose keeps a first aid kit. I'll be back once I can find her," second voice exclaimed, then apparently left. James was glad for that.

"Fred," he started slowly.

"Hm?" Fred said distractedly.

"That's Al, yeah?"

"Yes," Fred answered slowly. "You didn't know that?"

"I only know it's you cause you called me Jay. No one else does that," James said simply. "I was just checking." He wanted to go back to sleep. All the talking hurt.

"Jay!" Fred said sharply. James winced.

"Don't talk s' loud."

"You didn't recognize our voices?"

"'Course I did. I just couldn't figure out who they belonged to."

Fred sighed. "You're scaring me."

"'M sorry. I'm going to sleep now."

"No. I don't want you to sleep," Fred directed. When it became apparent James was not listening, he began to shake his shoulder. "Jay!"

James feebly tried to smack the offending hand away.

"Open your eyes."

"Can't."

"Why?"

"Head'll explode."

"Ah. Do it anyway."

"No."

"I swear to Merlin, Jay, I will do it for you."

James reluctantly opened one eye a sliver, then hissed and closed it again. "See?"

"Can't you just take a shower or something? Then you can sleep."

James thought it over, then, very slowly, opened both of his eyes. Then found he couldn't see. "Glasses?" he asked. The frames were pressed into his hand, and he fumbled with them for a minute before staring at the slightly clearer ceiling. It was still ungodly bright in the room, but he could at least keep his eyes open without feeling like he had taken a stinging hex to the head.

"There," Fred said. "Has your head exploded?"

"What time's it?" James asked instead of answering the previous question.

"Noon. Ish."

"Oh." James turned his head at Fred. "You look pale." Fred snorted.

"You're the color of parchment."

James scowled, then used most of his strength to push himself into a sitting position. "I'm sick."

"Can't argue with that, mate. At least you seem lucid right now."

James hummed in agreement. The fog on his senses had dulled to just around the corners.

Fred sat himself on the end of the bed then tilted his head at James. "How much _do_ you remember of the last twenty-four hours?" James considered for a moment.

"Calming draught." Fred winced.

"I had rather hoped that was the part you forgot," he said. "Are you angry?"

"I'm indifferent," James shrugged. It was true, he supposed.

"You remember nothing after dinner, though?" Fred repeated, face scrunched up.

"Not particularly…" James said slowly, not liking where this was going.

"Ah, well, um." Fred hesitated. "Well, don't shoot the messenger."

"What're you on about?"

"Al would rather like to speak to you about why you're… well…" he trailed off, looking uncomfortable. James got the gist, however.

"Oh," he said hollowly. Panic showed itself at the edge of his consciousness. James hadn't really considered explaining all of this to another person. He pulled his knees up to his chest.

"Go shower, Jay. Or at least change out of your bloody uniform," Fred said, changing the subject.

"Yeah," James muttered, looking down at his rumpled white button down, then unbuttoning it and pulling it off. He pushed himself up off the headboard, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. James blinked back the black spots threatening to cloud his vision at the movement.

"All right?" Fred asked. His voice sounded far away. James made a jerky movement with his head, which Fred seemed to read as a "no". James was pushed back to the mattress. "Sweet Merlin, you're burning up," Fred swore. He pushed his hair out of his face, tying it up in a knot at the top of his head with the tie that was always on his wrist. "Stay here. I'm going to find Al."

James was fairly certain that he couldn't go anywhere if he had wanted to, but he kept that quiet. Instead, he focused on not passing out as Fred left the dorm. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep the will to stay fully awake, seeing as the previous dark haze was so much more comfortable. James had eventually slipped into a half-awake doze that was soon interrupted by someone loudly pulling a chair up next to his bed. He groaned.

"Quit being so dramatic, James," Lily said cheerfully. "Al was right; you do look like hell."

James made a gesture at her that would have caused their mother to hex his fingers together. Lily was unruffled.

"Be nice. I've come to play nursemaid," she chided. James opened his eyes and looked at her. Lily was sat in the chair from the desk, pulled up to his bed. As one was rarely seen without the other, he scanned the room to find Hugo. Sure enough, the lanky redhead was leaning against the dresser, watching the exchange with a mixture of bemusement and sympathy.

"Are you all skipping class?" James asked hoarsely.

"History of Magic," Hugo answered simply. James nodded. "Fred's got a free, but I think Al worked his way out of Herbology."

James couldn't bring himself to care.

"So, anyway, since you're feverish and delirious," Lily started. James glared at her. "Oh, try and deny it. We have come baring gifts."

"Fever-reducer," Hugo cut in.

"Give it," James said gruffly. The bottle was pressed into his palm.

"All that does is decrease your temperature, so you'll still feel awful, most likely," Lily added as James chugged the burnt red liquid. Even through his muddled senses, the potion still tasted like a dirty Quaffle. "Stay lying down for a few minutes while we go get Al. Scorpius wanted something from him."

James was sorely tempted to ask her to keep Al far away, if only to avoid an unpleasant conversation. He was distracted though by the unsettling sensation of cool waves washing through his body; pleasant though the thought sounded, it made James break out in a cold sweat. James focused, instead, on keeping down the bile that was rising in his throat.

The fall of the fever threw everything into harsh reality. Without the hazy mind brought on by high temperature, James could feel every ache and pain brought on by days of exhaustion; his head was pounding, like something inside was trying to claw its way out. With a supreme amount of effort, James rolled himself over to bury his face in his pillow. His now clear brain was allowing the full strength of panicky and anxious thoughts to overwhelm him, and he felt his hands shake.

James wanted to run, he wanted to flee. He wanted to get far, far, away from prying cousins and sisters and brothers. He didn't want to explain this to Al. He didn't think he _could_ explain this to Al. How could he explain something that was just there?

It didn't matter, because James couldn't go anywhere, as the something trying to claw its way out of his head screeched at even the slightest movement. Therefore, any and all of his family members could and would come and find him. James gave a stifled scream into his pillow, then immediately regretted it when the something started to stomp on the area directly behind his eyes.

He could feel the beginning stages of a full-scale panic attack, which left him in a horrible position. Normally, this was when he would start running, because that strategy had yet to fail him, but running from his emotions was definitely not an option today. James was terrified of his emotions. Which was not helping anything.

Every breath of air felt like it was water, his heart was beating out of his chest. James hated himself in these moments, he hated feeling weak. He hated the blood pounding in his head in a two-part symphony with that unidentifiable something that was so insistent on making it feel like his brain was trying to escape. James hated that, when he got like this, there never seemed to be a good reason for it.

His hands curled into the bedsheets, nails biting his palms. Skin crawling, ringing in his ears, and he just wanted it to stop.

Wars that rule men are the ones fought inside. Wars that rule men are fought with bleeding palms and muffled screams. With hot tears and shallow breaths. With pounding blood.

James was moving sixty miles an hour and getting nowhere. James was paralyzed, lost so far into himself that he didn't notice the door open and definitely didn't notice it slam again. In fact, the next outside thing James recognized was someone pushing him onto the bed. He wasn't sure when he sat up.

"What's happening?" came Al's voice, worried. James screwed his eyes shut tighter as a hand was placed on his forehead. "His fever's gone."

"We gave him the potion," said Lily.

"Panic attack." James could _hear_ the grimace on Fred's face. "It happened once, before O.W.L.s last year."

"What do we do?" Lily said, sounding panicked herself.

"I don't know," Fred answered absently. "It wasn't this bad last time."

"I'm flooing Mum," said Al quietly. Fear flooded like ice through James's veins.

"Albus," Lily warned.

"I'm doing it. We're past the point where we can help this on our own."

"No," someone whispered. It took a moment for James to realize, as he forced himself up, that it was his own voice. "No, no, no."

"Jay," Fred said warily.

"No!" James was shouting now, without realizing it. The other three took steps away from him. "It's been five fucking years! Five years, and no one knew. Everyone knows now," he said to himself. He was shaking like a leaf in the wind. And then James was lost again, condemned to explore the rocky terrains of his own mind. He didn't hear Al and Lily leave.

* * *

"This is the right thing to do, right?" Al said as he and Lily jogged towards the headmistress's office.

Lily was pensive for a moment. "Yes, I think so. Should we go to Neville's, though?" she said slowly. Al apparently didn't agree with her, as he shook his head quickly. Lily shrugged and quickened her pace, cursing for the nth time her short legs. "And Uncle Charlie is a no, too?"

"They're both in class," Al said shortly. Lily privately thought that at least Uncle Charlie would stop class for the sake of his nephew, but decided this was one of those "pick your battles" moments. They rounded a corner. The siblings were silent until they reached the old gargoyles, and just as Lily was going to ask how in Merlin's name they were supposed to get into the office, Al gave the password. Apparently one of the perks of being a prefect. It was a mark of the seriousness of the situation that Lily, who loved the rotating spiral staircase that led to the headmistress's office and always had, remained silent as she and Al reached the door.

"Is Mum going to be home?" Lily asked. Al nodded.

"She works at home on Wednesdays," he said as he knocked on the door.

An authoritative "come in" granted the two entrance into the office.

Minerva McGonagall, though well into her ninth decade, had retained most of her appearance from the days of Lily and Albus's father's school years. Her hair, now completely white, was still pulled into a tight bun. Old though she may have been, however, one should never call Professor McGonagall frail. She was still as intimidating and slightly terrifying as ever, at least to most people, including Lily.

Luckily for her, Al was not one of those people.

"Professor," he greeted before she could speak.

"Potter," McGonagall returned, before her gaze strayed behind Al and to his sister. "And Potter," she finished. Lily waved.

"We need to floo home and get our mum," Al said with no preamble. Professor McGonagall's eyebrows rose. Lily hastened to explain.

"It's about James," she said softly, not wanting to tell more than necessary. "We can't think of anything else to do."

McGonagall turned to Al.

"Please, Professor. It's important."

The old headmistress sighed, then nodded stiffly and handed Lily a pot on her desk. "Very well. I can see when I'll get no information. Don't be gone long," she said. Lily handed the pot to Albus, then watched as he disappeared into the green flames.

"Thank you, Professor," she said earnestly, then followed Al into the flames with a grimace. Lily hated flooing.

She landed in the sitting room of the Potter home, Al waiting for her off to the side.

* * *

Ginny Potter was rather used to her children doing strange things.

She was also rather used to getting owls from Hogwarts regarding the children doing strange things. Cue, Lily and Hugo riding through Hogwarts on brooms as first years. Or James and Fred turning the entire great hall violently pink on Valentine's Day as fourth years. Or even Albus, Rose, and Scorpius getting caught out of bed a grand total of sixteen times their second year.

So really, Ginny had just been waiting to get a message from the school at this point, four days after the lot of them left. It was to be expected, and she would feign anger about what ever misdeed they had committed in a letter while she was laughing about it with Harry at home.

What wasn't expected was two of them charging into her study when she was fairly certain they were definitely supposed to be at Hogwarts. Not to mention in class, considering it was a Wednesday afternoon.

One look at Lily's face dispelled all previous plans to yell at them for breaking out of school. The conspicuous lack of her eldest son added to that. There was no way in hell that Albus and Lily would break out of Hogwarts without James.

"What happened," Ginny said warily, turning to face them. The whole thing was setting off some major maternal alarm bells. Lily looked scared out of her wits and Albus, who was the best out of her three children at hiding his emotions, looked even worse.

Albus looked to the ceiling, as if in prayer. Lily watched him, before evidently deciding her brother wasn't going to speak and clearing her throat.

"We didn't know what else to do," she said in an almost whisper, like she had said the same thing many times before. "Professor McGonagall gave us permission to come and get you." Albus snapped out of whatever trance he was in at Lily's words and made to leave again. Lily grabbed his shoulder, then shrugged at her mother. "It's not good, Mum. Al is freaking out, if you can't tell."

"I'm fine," Albus muttered and twisted out of Lily's grip. "We have to go."

Ginny was actually scared now. She recognized the looks on Albus and Lily's faces well; it was the same look she had seen numerous times on her own face when any of her siblings were in trouble. They looked like she had when Ron was poisoned in her fifth year.

"What's wrong with James?" Ginny asked. She was mildly shocked when Albus snorted.

"What's not wrong with James," he said mirthlessly. Lily glared at him.

"Can we explain when we get there?" she asked sternly to her brother. "And not scare Mum any more than is absolutely necessary until she sees what's going on? McGonagall said to hurry back." At that Albus huffed and left toward the sitting room. Lily turned to her mother, a helpless expression on her face. Ginny pulled her youngest into a hug, and Lily sniffled.

"James is sick. Al is freaking out, and Fred's just as bad. He wouldn't go to Pomfrey, you know how he is," she said softly. Ginny released her and grabbed her wand off the table, scribbling a quick note to Harry before grabbing her daughter's hand and following her son to the fireplace.

"That's not all, though, is it?" Ginny asked Lily gently. Lily shook her head. Ginny sighed and nodded, steeling herself for the worst. Albus was impatiently standing in front of the fireplace when they entered the room. Albus gestured for Ginny to go first.

"Send Lily in before you," she said on reflex. Despite the seriousness of the situation, the "I'm not a baby" look on Lily's face mad Ginny smile. Another look that she saw far too often on her own face. "Hogwarts Headmistress's Office!" Ginny called before stepping into the flames. She landed in the familiar office, with Professor McGonagall sat at her desk.

"Ginny," the old professor greeted.

"Professor," Ginny returned. McGonagall shook her head.

"I'm not your teacher, Ginny. Do call me Minerva."

Ginny smiled tightly. "I'll bet you have to tell yourself not to call me Miss Weasley," she said. McGonagall chuckled. Before anyone could say anything else, Ginny had to catch a falling Lily, who had landed ungracefully out of the floo. The action was accompanied by the usually grumbling that came from Ginny's husband, eldest son, or daughter when traveling by fireplace. Luckily for Ginny, Albus was able to make it out without falling directly onto his face while she righted her daughter.

"Come on," he said, taking hold of Ginny's shoulder. "I'd really rather not leave Fred alone for long."

Real fear prickled in Ginny's stomach as the three made their way from McGonagall's office to Gryffindor Tower. She was glad, despite the fact that it meant that Albus, Lily, and Fred were missing class, that there were not students everywhere. Lily gave the password to The Fat Lady, who greeted Ginny in her usual flamboyant manner, and Albus snapped out of it long enough to attempt to help his mother through the portrait hole. Ginny scowled at him good naturedly.

"I broke up with someone once for attempting that, Albus," she said lightly. Albus made a face, and Ginny laughed as she stepped through the threshold, glad to ease some of the tension. "Granted I learned a few years later that it was just your father running into me under the cloak, but still."

"Gross," Lily said from behind her. Ginny shook her head.

"What exactly is happening up there, Al?" Ginny asked, good mood rapidly fading with one glance up the boy's stairs. Albus and Lily grimaced.

"I don't quite ever know what to expect, truly," Albus said quietly. He sighed. "You'll just have to see."

"Why don't you both stay down here?" Ginny suggested. When it looked like they would protest, Ginny shook her head. "For now." With that, she turned up the stairs, up to the sixth year dorm. Ginny opened the door softly. Fred was sitting on what Ginny assumed must have been his bed, and scrambled to his feet when he heard the door open. Ginny saw her son, one the opposite bed, hands pressed over his eyes and pale as death, and faltered slightly, but before she could dwell on it Fred was rushing over towards her and out into the hall. James didn't even move at any of the commotion, which was the most concerning thing to happen so far.

"Aunt Ginny," Fred greeted tensely.

"Albus and Lily were maddeningly vague," said Ginny bluntly, in no mood for pleasantries. "What's going on?"

Fred looked just as helpless as either Albus or Lily when he shrugged. "Fever, at first, but we gave him a potion for that," he said quietly, then paused. "He hasn't been sleeping. For a while." Ginny sucked in a breath.

"That would be the "something else" Lily mentioned?" she guessed. Fred nodded.

"When Al left to get you, he was having a panic attack. It's not so bad anymore, but I don't know what's happening now," he said. Ginny felt her eyes widen.

"That's a new one."

Fred hesitated. "It's happened once before. During O.W.L.s," he said slowly. "That I know of," Fred added quickly. "You should probably see for yourself." He gestured to the door for emphasis.

Ginny sighed and sent Fred down with his cousins, then opened the door. Grimacing slightly at the pungent smell of four sixteen-year-old boys, she made her way over to the far bed, where James was still in the same position as he had been when Fred pulled her out into the hall. Ginny sat down on the edge of the bed and smoothed James's hair away from his forehead, noting the fever that probably should have been fully gone but wasn't. He flinched, and Ginny scrubbed a hand over her face.

"Look at me, love," Ginny said softly. She took one of his hands away from his eyes, causing him to screw them shut tighter. Ginny blew out a breath, silently wishing Harry was here. They were both naturally impulsive people, but he had always had a knack for sick kids. James was rarely ill, but he had been notorious as a young child for being extremely unpleasant to be around when he was. Mostly because he had seen no reason why he _couldn't_ continue to run around the house like a hyperactive niffler when he had dragon pox. This behavior was entirely new, and it scared her more than she would like to admit.

"James," Ginny tried again, jostling his shoulder a little. James huffed a little, and Ginny could tell he wasn't sleeping. "Must I go get Madam Pomfrey?"

That did the trick, at least slightly. James cracked open one eye, gave Ginny a once over, then flipped over with a groan and buried his face in the pillow.

"James," Ginny said warningly. As far as she was concerned, if her son was coherent enough to be dramatic, he could handle a warning tone.

"I told Al not to get you," James muttered, muffled by the pillow. "I didn't want him to get you. I'm fine." Ginny rolled her eyes. Why was she not surprised?

"No, you aren't," Ginny said, putting her hand on his back. He was clammy and feverish, and Ginny frowned. "Didn't someone give you a fever reducer?"

James nodded. "I drank it," he said, still into the pillow.

"Didn't do much, love," Ginny murmured. She was still rather fixated on the whole panic attack thing, but someone blind and deaf could tell James didn't want to talk about it, so she was starting with whatever was physically wrong with him. It was a lesson learned long ago with her husband. "You need to get up and change."

James mumbled a protest into the pillow.

"Fine," Ginny sighed, and hopped off his bed. She turned to James's trunk at the foot of his bed and pulled out a clean t-shirt and pajama pants. "I'm finding a headache reliever," she said, leaving the clothes on James's side. Ginny exited the room quickly, not wanting to leave James alone for too long. She went down the stairs and into the common room, only to answer a few questions from Fred, Lily, and Albus and walk back towards the girl's staircase. Ginny had no doubts that the first aid kit Hermione packed Rose every year had some sort of pain potion, and if she knew her niece, then it wouldn't be difficult to find.

Sure enough, sitting neatly on Rose's bedside table was an open first aid kit, containing three vials of painkiller. Ginny knew from personal experience that fever reducer was awful to experience when taken on its own, so she felt rather bad that no one thought to grab a pain reliever in the first place. Then again, for three teenagers trying to take care of James Potter, she figured they had done alright. Ginny grabbed two vials and left the fifth year girl's dorm.

"I want you lot to go to your next class," she said as she exited the stairwell. "I'll talk to the headmistress and try and get you a pass for this last one, but nevertheless."

"Mum…" Albus said, looking like he had no intentions of doing what she said. Ginny came over and kissed him on the head, then Lily, then Fred, for good measure.

"You've all done very well. Thank you very much for looking after James, but I'll stay for a while. No sense in missing class," she said gratefully, then headed back to the sixth year boy's dorm with a last goodbye. She entered the room a moment later, only to find that her son had not moved at all in the last several minutes. Ginny sighed and walked over to a lamp, holding the label of the pain potion up to the light to read the dosage. Nodding, satisfied, she sat back down on the edge of James's bed. She set one of the vials on the bedside table for later.

"Drink up," she ordered softly. James very slowly flipped over and regarded Ginny wearily. In turn, Ginny took her first good look at her son since she had arrived at Hogwarts. The pale skin, glassy eyes… James hadn't looked like this since the aforementioned dragon pox incident (except he wasn't green this time, thankfully) and even then he had been relatively energetic. Nothing like what she was dealing with now.

"What is it?" James asked cautiously, clearly not having been listening to her earlier pronouncement as she left the room. However, Ginny had barely even gotten the words "pain potion" out before James had snatched the vial out her hand and downed it in a motion that was surprisingly graceful.

"That bad, huh," Ginny murmured, pulling James's head into her lap and combing her fingers through his hair, like she used to when he was little and restless. James looked up at her, a crease in his brow, as if he was seeing a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out. It was an expression taken directly from his father, one that said _you should be interrogating me, why aren't you?_ Ginny smoothed out the crease with her thumb.

"We won't talk about it if you don't want to, James," she said as soothingly as she could manage. Ginny found one tiny braid in his hair, and cocked an eyebrow at him as she undid it.

"Lily," James said simply, eyes half-closed. "I don't want to talk, just yet," he added in a whisper. Ginny pressed a kiss to his temple.

"Go to sleep, love," she said quietly as James closed his eyes. "You've had a bit of a traumatic first week."

Ginny sighed she kept playing with his hair. A flick of her wand half-closed the curtains, blocking out most of the bright afternoon light. Another swish, a muttered _tempus_ , showed her the time. Kids would be in class for another hour, and Harry would be home in two. Ginny cast a simple diagnostic spell she had learned during her time with the Harpies, taking note with no small amount of frustration that the pain potion had done nothing to lower James's fever. Her own mother would say that this was one of those things that had to run its course. Though Ginny despised the idea of her baby in pain any longer, she agreed this time. Most parents would have immediately dragged James to the hospital wing, but everyone remembered the time when a bludger broke James's leg in his second year and he tried to keep playing. Yes, Ginny was content to say that her son had stayed in bed at all.

"Mum?" whispered James. Ginny started, having been sure he was asleep. In fact, she wouldn't have been able to tell if she hadn't seen his lips move.

"Yes, love?" Ginny said.

"I don't sleep much," James said, sounding like he was talking more to himself than anyone else.

This did not come as a surprise to Ginny. Neither of her sons were the type to lie in, but James especially. She kept her response to a quiet "Oh?"

"I can't sleep much."

This was new, but also not unexpected. "Is this why you're sick?" Ginny asked. James shrugged, not opening his eyes.

"Probably," he said. Ginny twirled a silky strand of black hair while she thought. Deciding she couldn't leave the school without knowing, she took a risk.

"Albus and Lily said you were having a panic attack when they came home to get me."

James stiffened slightly. A moment passed where he presumably thought about his answer, before her nodded warily. Ginny blew out a breath.

"When the war ended, your father didn't get out of bed for a week. He was never the same, really." She laughed a little bitterly. "None of us were, but it was your father that had everyone worried."

"He had a reason to," James muttered quietly. "He had real problems."

"Yes, he did. Your father and I, we started dating at the end of my fifth year. We only went out for about a month, and it was lovely, but in those times it was only ever going to be temporary. We both knew that, I think, going into it, but it was something we tried to pretend wasn't there."

"Then, Dumbledore died, and we broke up," Ginny continued. "I was upset, of course, and never wanted to break it off, but mind you that I was fifteen. I loved him in the way a fifteen-year-old does. Your father, back then, he didn't really understand love. He wouldn't have told Ron or Hermione he loved them, and they were practically siblings. Neither of us wanted to let go, and we really didn't, then, but in the end, neither of us could really say we were in love. We didn't have the chance."

James seemed a little surprised, and Ginny couldn't blame him. The way the stories told it, she and Harry were school sweethearts who fell madly in love and were tragically separated by war, only to be reunited right after the battle was won. It was never that simple. Neither of his parents had ever said anything to dispel the way the story was told to James, however. There was a point to this story, though, and Ginny was going to get to it.

"We went through that year, and maybe your father will tell you one day what he was doing, maybe he won't, but don't go asking. I was at Hogwarts. At school, we were under rule of the death eaters. It was more of a prison, and everyone saw awful things that year. I led a resistance with Neville and Luna for most of the year and then went into hiding around Easter. Your father… your father was on the run, though that really isn't the proper term. He had a job to do, and the final piece was at Hogwarts. Voldemort tried to beat him here, and that was the battle of Hogwarts."

Ginny toyed with James's hair absently as she talked, lost in the past. James for his part was listening raptly, though his eyes were still closed. It was almost as if he was imagining the events in his mind. Ginny sighed, and continued.

"As you know, that was the end of it. Your father defeated Riddle, and the war was over, save a few very confused death eaters with no master who evaded capture for a while. It was early morning, when Riddle died, and for the rest of that day your father seemed fine. He allowed himself to be congratulated and played the hero he was with his usual amount of discomfort, then slipped away a few hours later. In hindsight, he had been running on adrenaline, which does a very good job at keeping emotions at bay. He had been running on adrenaline for months at that point. Years, maybe. But at the time, quite frankly, none of our family was paying all too much attention to Harry, and he, unlike Hermione, stayed away from us. That should have been the first sign. My brother was dead, though. George was a shell, Percy thought it was his fault, Mum was a wreck… me, I was broken, James. Ron only found your father when it was cleared as safe at the Burrow that afternoon and we all went home. He had to be persuaded to come."

"We got home, and everyone went to sleep. None of us had slept for at least a day, and for your father, Ron, and Hermione it had been at least two. No one emerged for at least eighteen hours, but everyone eventually did. Ron and Hermione and I took up housekeeping, your Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur went back to Shell Cottage, your grandad and Uncle Percy went to help Shacklebolt at the Ministry. Your Uncle Charlie worked on the reconstruction of the castle. Your father, though, had put every single locking and security charm he knew on the door of Bill's old room. No one could get in, he didn't eat… we were all terrified. A week later he let himself out, but still wouldn't eat. A month after the battle, everyone's injuries were healing, we were all getting back to normal. Your father looked worse. He had finally started eating, but not nearly enough."

"Why are you telling me all of this?" James asked softly, meeting his mother's gaze with matching brown eyes.

"I told you your father was never the same after the battle," Ginny replied carefully. "I'm telling you why. The boy I dated at Hogwarts, James, was not the man I married. I had changed too, though, and I wasn't the girl who dated him at Hogwarts anymore. It was seven months after the battle when we were both in a place where we could actually get back together, over winter holiday. I love the man I have been with since then, much more than I ever could have loved the boy I dated. After the battle, your father, who had never been outgoing in the first place, was nearly silent for months. Still, he only speaks when necessary. He blamed himself for every last person who died because of Voldemort, thought if he had acted faster... It took years to get him over that." She sighed. "Teddy's parents, especially. Teddy was only a few days old when they died. It took Teddy telling your father himself that he didn't blame him before Harry accepted it."

"James, your father nearly killed himself with his own mind. He didn't sleep save for a few hours, that first month, and that was part of it. Still, I've not known him to be able to sleep for more than four hours at a time in the almost twenty years we have been sharing a bed. You have a genetic reason this happens to you, James, regardless of whether or not you have the things on your chest that your father does. I, for one, thank Merlin that you don't," Ginny finished gently, then fell quiet.

"Alright," said James softly, a moment later. Ginny kissed his forehead again.

"Sleep, love. You need it," she whispered again, with an air of finality. A few minutes later, she added something under her breath.

"Don't let things get that far."

* * *

 _September 7th_

Albus woke with a start Friday morning. It was a mark of the week he'd had that when he saw the clock read _6:30_ , later than he usually awoke, he rolled over and buried his face in the pillow.

It was morning Thursday when James had decided that he was completely well. In honesty, while Albus was glad that his brother was coming back to himself, normal James Potter was much harder to convince to stay in bed. And James was not completely well, seeing as he still had had that nasty fever.

Today was Friday, however, and none of the Potters or Weasleys thought that there was any chance of convincing James rest. Today was Quidditch day, and that meant that James could have been in a full body cast and still have been on his broom. Such was the way of the world, and Albus knew there was no way his brother would let something like a pesky fever and possible mental breakdown keep him from holding tryouts.

Albus wasn't quite sure what to make of the possible mental breakdown. But alas, one does not test the will of James Potter on Quidditch day.

Rumors followed the Potters and Weasleys, so naturally much of Hogwarts had been speculating as to the absence of the eldest Potter for the last two days. Albus, Rose, and Scorpius had made a list of the best explanations they heard Thursday. Albus's favorite so far was "birth of a lovechild."

It was true that James had a bit of a reputation as a playboy, but that was just ridiculous.

Not quite as ridiculous as having to threaten to body-bind your brother/patient to keep him in bed for another day while he was running a 101-degree fever, but still ridiculous. The only thing good to come from that incident was to solidify the fact that Albus was not going to become a healer.

Yes, it was safe to say that Albus could use a few extra minutes of sleep. Unfortunately, if he didn't get up, then Scorpius wouldn't get up, and Rose would fuck them both up for messing up her schedule. Albus now saw, as he dragged himself out of bed, why Fred and James said Rose had them whipped.

In no mood to fuck around, Albus shot a carefully placed stinging hex at Scorpius, then went about dressing. Scorpius, who was nearly as fanatic about Quidditch as James, was apparently in too good a mood to hex Albus back, and simply pulled a shirt and trousers out and got dressed. Albus scowled at his friend.

"What's got your knickers in a knot, Potter?" Jon asked, looking bemused. Albus grunted and continued tying his tie.

He could practically _hear_ Scorpius smirk as he supplied an admittedly correct answer.

"James Potter."

"You're going to kill yourself."

James buttoned the next button of his shirt and shot an irritated glance at Fred.

"You're still sick."

"I'm failing to see your point."

Fred shot James an equally irritated look.

"You're running a fever!"

James glanced in the mirror and slung his bag over his shoulder, then walked out the door. He could hear Fred muttering under his breath behind him, so he knew his cousin was following.

"If I stay in that room another day, I'll burn the place down." Given past experiences, James hoped Fred knew this wasn't an empty threat.

"If you pass out in the hallway, I'm leaving you there," Fred said waspishly as he jogged a few paces to catch up. James smirked.

"No, you won't."

"I'll take you to the Hospital Wing."

James scoffed. "I'd bloody well hope so, if I was to collapse in a hallway."

"I don't see why you couldn't reschedule tryouts," Fred asked after a moment of silence.

"Quidditch stops for no one," James replied simply.

Fred rolled his eyes.

"That's not the attitude I want in my beaters."

Fred took a deep breath, and didn't speak for the rest of the trip down to the Great Hall.

Difficult as it was to admit it, James was not feeling 100%. This was, of course, due to the fever Fred had mention. He also, however, was not going to spend another day "recovering"; James did not take well to inaction. So he would power through on coffee and pain potion.

Breakfast passed quickly, with Al throwing him irritated glances for the whole meal, and Rose asking him questions like a sodding healer. James decided in the end to ignore the both of them and talk chaser prospects with Malfoy, the only one of the assembled group who wasn't treating him like he was made of glass.

The chaser opening was going to be a pain in the arse, he could tell. Last year's team, while a Cup-winning one, was also largely a senior team. Callaway, the seeker, had captained and had signed with the Arrows at the end of the season. He was the reason they won the cup. James, Malfoy, and a girl called Eika Smith had made up the chasers. Fred and Carla Uberi were beaters, and a ginormous bloke, Hampton, had been the wall they called their keeper.

Jerome Callaway had run a tight ship, and had left his team in as good of sorts as he could for James. That meant that Gryffindor had a decent keeper already lined up. The seeker tryouts were merely a formality, as James was going to get Al as his secret weapon if it was the last thing he did, but Gryffindor had absolutely _no_ chaser talent left. So James was going into the chaser trials blind. He really, really, did not want to have another seeker-dependent team. Or resort to first years.

James told Malfoy as much, and the blond laughed.

James always did think the kid was a little out there.

Noticing James's glare, Malfoy calmed down with a rapidity that was unnerving. Then smirked, and for a second James was almost positive he was looking at an old photo of Draco Malfoy, shaggy hair or not. "I'll most likely find it entertaining," Malfoy Jr. admitted with a shrug. James huffed.

A red bolt streaked down towards the Quidditch pitch that evening, circling the field once, then landed gracefully in front of a group of similarly, colored students, every eye on him. Noticing his late teammate, the captain looked up from his clipboard and scowled. His teammate smirked, and shook out his silvery-blond hair.

"Had to make an entrance, Malfoy?" James said irritably, eyes back on his clipboard. "You're late."

"I flew off the Astronomy Tower," Scorpius said seriously. James shook his head.

"Bloody drama queen," he muttered. Scorpius grinned roguishly, and Fred, beside James, chuckled. All of the sudden, James blew the muggle whistle around his neck and blew it shrilly. Scorpius was sure he heard Albus, standing in the back of the group, mutter "damn whistle" under his breath.

"Right then," James began when it became apparent that he had everyone's attention. "I'm James Potter, I'm the captain." Scorpius snorted quietly at the notion that any of the assembled Gryffindors, or any student for that matter, didn't know exactly who James Potter was. "This is Scorpius Malfoy," James said with a gesture toward the blond. "We are the two veteran chasers for Gryffindor. I'm looking for one more chaser and possibly a couple of reserves. These are our beaters, Fred Weasley and Carla Uberi. We aren't trying out any beaters today, so if that's why you're here, leave." When nobody moved, James continued. "I also am trying keepers. And seekers," he added as an afterthought. "Group up, then!" he snapped when no one made a move. The try-outs complied quickly, except Al who rolled his eyes and went to join a few underclassmen in the seeker group. The younger kids eyed him warily, clearly realizing that the position was all but taken.

The chasers were, as usual, the largest group. Scorpius could tell just by looking at them that there were no prodigies in the group. There were about half as many keepers, and only a few seekers.

"Do seekers first, get it out of the way," Scorpius said under his breath to James. "It'll take us hours to get through the rest of this lot." James nodded, and gave the instructions for the seekers to do a few laps around the pitch.

Immediately, it became apparent that Al would be the next Gryffindor seeker. One second year appeared to be too afraid to fly faster than a run, and a third year almost fell off their broom half a lap in. The rest were okay, but not good enough.

Al had been pestered for years to play Quidditch, but always had refused. Scorpius had been confused, but Albus simply told him that he liked to fly without having to watch for murderous metal balls aiming at his head. Al simply didn't understand when Scorpius tried to tell him that that was the _best part_. It had been a great source of disappointment for both James and Scorpius for years, because Al was _good_.

Scorpius had seen some good flyers. Scorpius was a good flyer, but he had yet to see anyone who flew with the grace that Al flew with. James was a brilliant chaser, and all of his moves were sharp and precise, doing exactly what needed to be done as fast as possible. Scorpius was much the same, but he would willingly admit that he wasn't as clean as James. His flying involved more physical contact than was strictly necessary, and he specialized in running interference. Albus, however, was fluid, and bloody fast too.

So fast that he had gained a half a lap on the next fastest player by the time he reached the fourth and final lap James had assigned. Scorpius was not surprised that Al looked bored when he landed, or that James was trying his damnedest to stop the grin on his face.

"Don't even need to release a snitch, do we?" Fred asked quietly to Carla, who shook her head. Scorpius snorted. James was still smiling like a proud parent.

"Grab a practice snitch, would you Malfoy? And ask all but the top three to leave," he ordered. Scorpius cocked an eyebrow. James shrugged and smirked slightly. "I want a show, so they can't accuse me of nepotism."

Scorpius, who was rather curious himself, did as he was told. Al and Scorpius didn't usually play Quidditch, and when they did it was some two-a-side version that was so difficult to understand for anyone but Weasleys, who all knew exactly how to play. Even Rose, who wouldn't touch a broom, knew the rules. Regardless, Scorpius had never really seen Al play seeker, but it looked like James had.

He ushered the three remaining seekers toward the captain and shooed the outcasts off the pitch, then handed the snitch to James.

"Practice snitch," the older Potter said simply, holding the little golden ball up. "No flesh memory, a little slower than a regular snitch." Scorpius saw Al's expression flash to annoyance briefly at the word slower, and again wondered exactly _how good_ his best mate was. "We'll release it five times," James continued, though he smiled slightly at the expression on his brother's face, and released the snitch. Albus scowled and return and then before Scorpius (or the other two candidates) could blink was off after the little ball.

James wasn't even trying to hide his smirk anymore.

"He was six when he beat Mum for the first time. Ten when he got dad, and dad's pouted about it since. Al's mad because it's a practice snitch, I reckon," James said to Scorpius's no doubt stunned expression. James looked up to Al, who was circling the pitch, and frowned. "He's getting slow, isn't he, Fred?"

Fred sauntered over and glanced at his watch. "It's been a minute, so… yeah."

Scorpius squinted up at his friend. Even from a distance, it was clear Al was smirking.

"He's fucking with you," Scorpius said decisively. "I guarantee it. Cocky bastard."

"He has a right to be," Carla said with a low whistle when Al dropped into a dive.

"Finally. Two minutes," James muttered as Al held up a fist and glided over, his two competitors trailing behind. "When I said we were doing five I thought he would go faster." He seemed to think for a moment, then rose his voice. "We're done, I need to do chasers and keepers, and Merlin knows how long that will take. Fun as this is."

The other two seeker candidates didn't seem to mind being dismissed and made their way to the stands, where all of the non-Quidditch playing Weasley clan watched. Louis was wolf-whistling at Al, who was very convincingly ignoring him as he landed next to Scorpius, who was grinning at him. Al rolled his eyes, but Scorpius could tell he was pleased.

James sent half of the chasers to fly around the field like he had the seekers. Scorpius counted maybe three competent flyers in the group, and who knew what they would look like in a game situation.

Scorpius was starting to understand why James was in a fit about his chasers.

"Damn," Al muttered next to Scorpius, frowning at the group in the air. Scorpius nodded mutely. The group landed, and James sent all but two of them out. Scorpius huffed.

"Can't take anyone if none of them can bloody fly," he said under his breath as the other half of the chasers took to the sky, no better than the first half. They too landed a minute later and were mostly dismissed on sight. James was left with six people who could even _possibly_ be a third chaser.

"Al!"

Scorpius and Albus both turned to face the captain. Al raised an eyebrow.

"Throw me a Quaffle! And get over here, Malfoy."

Al grumbled and bent down to pick up a Quaffle, which he threw to James, while Scorpius made his way over to the group of chasers.

"Sir?" a second year girl said to James. Al coughed to hide his laugh. "How are we going to try out without a keeper?"

"See if you can score without the keeper, and we'll talk," he returned shortly, handing the girl the ball. Scorpius barked out a laugh before he could stop it, and James glared. "Actually, keepers!" he barked at the group off to the side. They all turned to face the captain, and Scorpius marveled at their likeness to a military group. "Take a turn around the pitch, then we're doing three on threes for the chasers with a keeper at each end. We'll see if any of you can hold your own."

One extremely frustrating hour later, Scorpius could easily say that the Gryffindor Quidditch team was thoroughly fucked. The bleeding chasers could either fly, or throw the Quaffle. There wasn't a single one who could do both. James and Scorpius had been able to provide some actual opposition for the keepers, so they had managed to find a decent one (as James predicted, their reserve, a sixth year called Berit O'Connor, from the previous year). That was only a silver lining, however, because as good as James was, Gryffindor couldn't win with two chasers.

James, standing next to Scorpius, seemed to be thinking similarly, if the look on his face was any indication.

The young Malfoy was interrupted from his musings by the sound of angry footsteps behind him.

"Bloody awful! I couldn't watch anymore, I just couldn't!" Scorpius smirked as James's eyes widened momentarily. Lily Potter stomped up to Al and snatched his broom out of his hands, then rounded on James. "I didn't want to do this, you know," was all she said before she shot off into the air.

Scorpius wondered briefly, as he followed Lily into the air, how all of the Potter children could be so talented at Quidditch. Then, he remembered who their parents were. Yes, the children of the Boy-Who-Broke-Seeker-Records and Ginny Potter, chaser for England, really couldn't be anything _other_ than good flyers. Scorpius just wondered why no one thought to ask Lily before.

Half an hour later, Gryffindor had a full Quidditch team that was gathered around a fireplace in the Common Room. Scorpius sat next to Carla Uberi on a couch, watching the Potter siblings argue about nothing in particular. Al was half-heartedly trying to referee.

"Why did the Weasley family take up all of Gryffindor's Quidditch talent?" Carla asked lazily after a while, twirling a strand of dark hair with her wand. Scorpius laughed.

"It's the Potters you got to watch out for," he said in an equal tone. Carla waved that point of with her hand.

"One in the same," she replied easily. "We're outnumbered either way."

Scorpius smiled genuinely at her, an admittedly rare expression on his face. "You get used to in after a while," he said truthfully.

"I suppose you would know," Carla commented. Scorpius nodded and gestured to himself.

"Imagine being twelve, looking like this, and walking into Harry Potter's house. Terrifying, that was," Scorpius said wryly. Carla's brow furrowed, and Scorpius was remembered with a jolt that she was a muggleborn. The History of Magic lesson in second year on the second war had been dreadfully vague, lauding the light side and glazing over the complexities of the dark. Rose had complained for weeks about it. Scorpius sighed quietly and picked at a piece of fluff on his shirt. He met Carla's dark eyes, and it hit him that it was refreshing to explain this to someone with little prior bias.

"My father is a…" _good wasn't the word. If there was any word that could describe Father, it was grey._ "reformed," Scorpius decided instead. "Man. And we're as identical as Al is to his father." Understanding lit Carla's face. Even muggleborns knew of the public's fascination of Albus Potter. Hell, it was one of the first things they came to notice. "He was a death eater, as was my grandfather," Scorpius continued clinically. It was pleasing to note that Carla's face didn't contort into a sneer as most people's did. "The Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy, purebloods and Slytherins, traceable ten generations back."

"So you broke some traditions," Carla, rather succinctly, summed up.

Scorpius nodded. "I was told to be wary of Al and Rose's family before coming to Hogwarts. My parents said they wouldn't like me much. My grandfather used stronger words pertaining to how I should feel of them. Of course, I never saw much of Grandfather. My grandparents didn't like my mother. Anyway, Al and Rose were wary of me for about three seconds before adopting me. Because of them, I'm a Gryffindor, and it was the best thing that's ever happened to me. But meeting Harry Potter, my father's school rival, was still terrifying." Scorpius laughed, then. "Rose's father was even worse, let me tell you."

"Why did you tell me all that?" Carla questioned curiously. Scorpius shrugged, slightly embarrassed.

"It was nice to tell someone who doesn't already know the story."

Carla patted him on the shoulder and smiled. "Anytime, Malfoy," she said simply, then got up to talk to some of her friends, leaving Scorpius to ponder what could have possibly possessed him to have that conversation with someone who was merely an acquaintance. He didn't regret it, though.

A few minutes later, Rose replaced Carla on the couch and the two began to discuss Potions, and the conversation was forgotten.

* * *

 **A/n:** Hello! Sorry this chapter took forever, but it simply could not be helped. Well, that isn't true, but I kept getting distracted by other projects that I probable will never publish. Not to mention school. This chapter is again, all James, with the Quidditch at the end just for shits. I will move on to obsessing over another character next chapter, I promise. Let me repeat, that any descriptions of panic attacks or the like are based off of me, so please don't yell at me if your experience is different. Now, my list of things I want to tell you guys.

1\. I posted a Percy one-shot that techically falls in this universe, though it doesn't really affect this story at all. Please read it, it's directly post DH. It's called I Want to Thank You.

2\. I really, really, REALLY want to write a series of one-shots regarding hinny after the war based on Ginny's part of this chapter. Give me some motivation in the reviews, people. I have 1000 words written, but we all know that's like one fifth, minimum, of a chapter for me. We would be talking less than five chapters for this thing, though, so if I can set myself to it I could have this thing done fairly quickly.

3\. Don't read in to the conversation Scorpius and Carla have at the end too much. It was mostly just to lay some foundation for Draco's character.

4\. I want to write Harry into the story. So keep tuned for that. (Guys, my post-war Harry is just living in my head but I'm having trouble getting it in to writing. It's kind of my obsession at the mo)

5\. Guys, do allow me to apoligize. I should have prewritten chapters before I started posting. It is the curse of every new fanfiction writer.


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